[J  I     ^ 


FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 
REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,   D.  D 

BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY 


Set  | 


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mmw  emilassiD: 


AND  OTHER 


P  0  E  M  S . 


=    /S 

BY  WILLIAM  B.  TAPPAN. 


- 


PHILADELPHIA: 

raiXTID  FOR  THE  AUTHOR,  BT  J.  H.  CUNNINGHAM, 

No.  70,  South  Third-street. 
1819. 


Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania)  to  -wit: 

BE  IT  REMEMBERED,  that  on  the  19th  day  of  July, 
in  the  forty-fourth  year  of  the  independence  of  the 
United  States  of  America,  A.  U.  1819,  William  B.  Tap- 
pan,  of  the  said  district,  hath  deposited  in  this  office  the 
title  of  a  book,  the  right  whereof  he  claims  as  proprie- 
tor, in  the  words  following,  to  wit : 

JVfew  England,  and  other  Poems.     By  William  B.  Tappan. 

In  conformity  to  the  act  of  the  congress  of  the  United 
States,  entitled  "  An  Act  for  the  encouragement  of 
learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  maps,  charts,  and 
books,  to  the  authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies, 
during  the  times  therein  mentioned ;"  and  also  an  act 
entitled,  "An  Act  supplementary  to  an  act  entitled, 
*  An  Act  for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  secur- 
ing the  copies  of  maps,  charts,  and  books,  to  the  au- 
thors and  proprietors  of  such  copies,  during  the  times 
therein  mentioned,'  and  extending  the  benefits  thereof 
to  the  arts  of  designing,  engraving,  and  etching  histo- 
rical and  other  prints." 

D.  CALDWELL, 
Clerk  of  the  Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania, 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Preface            3 

New  England 5 

MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

My  Native  Village  .         .         .         .         .         .17 

Spanish  Patriots .18 

Cynthia            19 

Ode  for  22d  February 20 

Decay  of  Spring 22 

Melody 24 

To  Peace 25 

Grave  of  Putnam 26 

Stanzas              27 

The  Vision — a  Fragment 28 

On  visiting  the  scenes  of  Childhood         .         .         .29 

Impromptu 30 

To  the  Dove             31 

Fair  is  the  scene 32 

St.  Clair 33 

Stanzas  to  an  interesting  Young  Lady,  deaf  and  dumb  34 

Veteran  Tribute           .         .    '     .         .         .         .  34 

Winter 36 

Chilese  Warrior's  Song 37 

New-Year's  Budget          ......  39 

The  North  Star             44 

Captive  Jewess 45 

Solitude 46 

Is  it  not  a  little  one 47 

The  Duellist 48 

Oh,  oft  have  I  wept 49 

To  the  Comet  which  appeared  July,  1819           .  51 

Ruins  of  Ticonderoga      ......  52 

Shepherd  of  the  Andes' twilight  Song         .         .  54 
Ode  for  the  43d  Anniversary  of  American  Inde- 
pendence             55 

Look  at  t'other  side 57 

Stanzas  on  viewing  Trumbull's  painting  of  the  De- 
claration of  Independence        .         .         .         .59 

The  dark  wave  of  Erie 60 


CONTENTS. 

TIG  J. 

The  Carolinian 62 

Melody 64 

To  the  Muse 65 

SACRED  PIECES. 

There  is  an  hour  of  peaceful  rest  ...  67 
Lines  inscribed  on  the  leaf  of  a  Bible      .        .         .68 

Evening1  Hymn  69 

The  Immortal  Mind 70 

Africa 72 

The  Tomb  of  Jesus 73 

Weep  not  74 

Thanksgiving  Hymn 75 

Pleasure 77 

Hymn  written  for  the  Annual  Thanksgiving  of  the 

New  England  Society  of  Philadelphia       .        .     78 

Eternity 79 

Stanzas 80 

They  that  sow  in  tears  shall  reap  in  joy  .  .  81 
To  whom  shall  we  go,  but  to  thee  .        .        .82 

The  Jewish  Return 84 

The  Sunday  School 85 

The  Morning  Star 86 

Stanzas  to  an  Infant  whose  Mother  deceased  a  few 

hours  after  its  birth 87 

Thy  will  be  done 89 

Arise,  shine,  for  thy  light  is  come  .        .        .90 

Why  weepest  thou       ......         91 

The  South  American's  Hymn  .         .         .         .92 

Oh  thou  that  sit'st  enthroned  on  high  .         .         94 

When  the  last  stern  and  trophied  foe     .  .     94 

When  yon  bright  orb 95 

The  eagle  on  its  mountain  height  .         .         .96 

The  harp  of  Judah       .         ,  .      .         .        .         .        97 

When  the  rose 98 

Shalt  thou,  Oh  Lord 99 

What  doest  thou  here 100 

Oh  thou  that  plead'st  with  pitying  love      .         .         101 

There  is  a  harp 102 

Mission  to  Jerusalem 103 

Oh,  what  is  life 104 

Vision  of  the  Four  Seals  ....        105 


PREFACE. 

It  is  not  without  diffidence  the  following  pro- 
ductions of  a  youthful  Muse  are  submitted  to  an 
impartial  public.  The  author  is  conscious  that 
individual  approbation  is  not  the  criterion  by 
which  success  is  to  be  anticipated.  Under  the 
full  weight  of  this  impression,  he  ventures  to 
publish  these  effusions,  with  the  sincere  hope, 
that  if  they  do  not  add  a  sprig  to  the  increasing 
luxuriance  of  American  literature,  they  will  not 
diminish  the  number  of  those  who  regard  piety 
and  virtue  as  the  only  sure  avenues  to  peace  and 
happiness. 


NEW  ENGLAND. 


The  muse,  aspiring,  plumes  her  youthful  wing,  2  ^  x  £'<; 
And  native  scenes,  with  native  note,  would  sing: 
No  minstrel  lyre  assists  her  humble  song, 
No  tale  of  art,  the  simple  strains  prolong; 
To  chant  of  home,  and  rural  charms  display, 
Now  claims  the  theme,  and  wakes  the  tuneful  lay. 

New  England  !  much-loved  sound — in  thee 

combined 
Are  blended  titles,  with  this  heart  entwined; 
Country,  and  home — names  dear  to  every  breast, 
Alive  to  manhood,  and  with  soul  possest ; — 
How  curst  the  bosom,  cold  as  Zembla's  snow, 
In  whose  recess  no  patriot  feelings  glow ; 
Shame  on  the  wretch — ne'er  let  his  name  be 

found,  [sound ! 

Whose  soul  dishonoured,  thrills  not  with  the 

A  2 


Say,  youthful  muse,  how  glows  the  generous 
heart, 
With  impulse  rich,  unknown  to  languid  art, 
How  throbs  the  bosom,warmed  with  virtuous  fire, 
And  kindling  zeal,  which  fain  would  each  inspire, 
As  history's  ken  reviews  the  eventful  time, 
When  hallowed  freedom  sought  its  genial  clime  ;* 
When  persecution  lit  her  fires  afar, 
And  meek  Religion  fled  the  unequal  war ; 
When  Pilgrim-sires,  a  small,  but  fearless  band, 
Unfurled  their  banner  o'er  this  western  land  ; 
Rapt  fancy  views  them  tread  the  stranger  shore, 
Devotion  joins  as  each  with  praise  adore. 
With  laws  severe — but  with  demeanour  mild, 
They  rule,  the  patriarchs  of  the  savage  wild; 
The  fruitful  glebe  subdued  by  hardy  toil, 
A  new  creation  blooms  on  freedom's  soil ; 
Fair  rising  towns,  their  industry  confess, 
The  Indian  vanquished,  prove  a  Power  to  bless. 
Each  peril  crushed,  and  freed  from  every  snare, 
Their  ally  Heaven — their   weapon   faith   and 

prayer. 
Time  speeds  his  course,  and  sister-states  appear, 
And  arts  and  commerce  urge  their  swift  career; 
Rich  agriculture  waves  o'er  every  plain, 
And  Ceres  views  a  new  and  vast  domain  ; 

*  Landing  of  the  Fathers. 


Fair  heaven,  approving,  smiles  on  every  toil, 
And  Freedom  hovers  o'er  her  native  soil ; 
Here,  at  her  altar  beamed  the  sacred  fire, 
Whose  lightning-spark  a  nation  did  inspire  ; 
Here  gleamed  the  brand,  whose  flaming  disk  dis- 
played, 
A  phalanx  firm,  in  freedom's  cause  arrayed, 
Here  on  thy  plains*  the  symbol  was  unfurled, 
A  constellation  beaming  o'er  a  world, 
Thy  fields  yet  stained  with  veteran  blood,  can 

tell 
How  rived  thy  bosom  when  thy  children  fell ! 
Thy  soil  encrimsoned  with  thy  richest  tide ; 
Thy  chieftains  brave — thy  statesmen,  wisdom's 

pride, 
Thy  daughters!  aiding  in  their  country's  right, 
Thy  veterans  hardy,  patient,  but  in  fight, 
All  speak  thy  love,  New-England,  for  the  cause 
Of  God  and  Country — home,  and  sacred  laws. 
From  tyrant  chains,  and  ruthless  bondage  freed, 
Secure  in  Peace,  bright  valour's  richest  meed  ; 

*  Battle  of  Lexington. 

|  In  the  revolutionary  struggle,  the  daughters  of  New- 
England  by  a  voluntary  sacrifice,  abstaining  from  the  use 
of  foreign  luxuries,  accelerated  the  efforts  of  their  hus- 
bands and  fathers  in  the  cause  of  Libertv. 


8 

With  every  bliss  which  heaven  doe9  here  bestow, 
New  England  blooms,  a  gem  on  Freedom's  brow ! 
With  gracious  boon  kind  Providence  hath  blest, 
Thy  favoured  clime,  with  health,  enjoyment's 

zest, 
Unscorched  by  burning  heat  and  Southern  blast, 
The  bracing  North,  confirms  thy  ruddy  cast ; 
The  glow  of  temperance  marks  thy  hardy  race, 
And  kindred  morals  own  their  honoured  place. 
Thy  sons  are  generous,  shrewd,  and  faithful  too, 
Thy  daughters  modest,  fair  and  ever  true ; 
Free  as  thy  clime,  thy  equal  laws  are  free, 
And  Slavery's  scourge  a  stranger  still  to  thee. 
Oh  may  the  slave-ship  ne'er  pollute  thy  strand, 
No  Afric's  tear  bedew  my  native  land  ; 
Forbid  it  heaven,  that  slavery  e'er  should  toil 
With  withering  curse  on  freedom's  natal  soil ! 
Muse,  plume  thy  pinion,   venturous  boldly 

soar  Lshore ; 

Where  thickening  towns  adorn   the   sea-girt 
See  clustering  hamlets  strew  the  verdant  plains, 
And  thriving  cities,  where  rich  commerce  reigns. 
But  chiefly  ken,  where  near  the  spreading  bay, 
The  proud  Metropolis*  extends  its  sway, 

•  Boston,  the  capital  of  New  England 


See  scattered  round,  a  fair  and  "  goodly  show," 
Far  as  the  view,  a  paradise  below  ! 
The  smiling  fields,  the  rural  hill  and  dale, 
Twin  mountains1'  there,  and  here  the  humble 

vale. 
The  village  churches'!  lofty  glistening  fanes, 
The  halls  of  Sciencet  on  fair  Newtown's  plains, 
The  numerous  villas,§  by  refinement  reared, 
Abodes  of  taste,  to  elegance  endeared; 
Fair  Prospect-hill,  with  Bunker's  awful  steep, 
Where  'neath  her  altarffreedom's  votaries  sleep. 
The  towering  domes,  and  lofty  spires  which  rise, 
Whose  glittering  heights  reflect  the  azure  skies ; 
The  kindly  roofs,  where  manners  bland  reside ; 
And  courteous  ease,  a  city's  boast  and  pride. 
Loved, generous  homes,where  opulence  combined 
With  ready  hearts,  display  the  feeling  mind ; 

*  Dorchester  heights. 

f  The  Churches  of  Roxbury,  Dorchester,  Brookline, 
Brighton,  Cambridge,  and  Charlestown,  all  visible  from 
one  point  of  elevation. 

$  Harvard  University — at  the  date  of  th'19  institution, 
1638,  the  present  Cambridge  was  designated  New- 
town. 

§  The  environs  of  Boston  are  adorned  with  numerous 
country  seats,  many  of  which  are  chastly  elegant. 


10 

The  lofty  pile  *  where  wisdom  oft  hath  shone, 
And  sapient  eloquence  has  reared  her  throne; 
The  walkf  whose  elms,  a  grateful  shade  disclose, 
The  common,  spread  where  Charles  romantic 

flows, 
The  masted  groves,  with  whitened  canvas  spread, 
The  lengthened  piers,  that  rest  in  ocean's  bed, 
All  meet  the  view,  and  crowding  on  the  sight, 
Fill  the  rapt  mind,  amaze,  and  well  delight. 
Here  all  is  seen  to  heighten  or  refine, 
And  wealth  with  grandeur,  skill  witli  taste  com- 
bine. 
Wide  hospitality  extends  her  reign, 
And  kindly  feeling  dwells  in  virtue's  train. 
Nor  are  thy  views  where  nature  breathes  delight, 
Less  fraught  with  charms  and  pleasing  to  the 

sight. 
The  rural  Muse  would  fain  enraptured  stray, 
Amid  those  scenes  which  saw  young  childhood's 

day, 
With  roving  mind  the  favourite  spot  would  view, 
Where   'mid  content  her  earliest  breath  she 
drew, 

*  The  new  State  House. 

•j-  The  Mall,  a  beautiful  promenade  surrounding1  the 
common,  which  is  an  enclosure  of  several  acres*  used 
on  days  of  festivity,  reviews,  &c. 


11 

Where  youthful    sports  beguiled  the  heedless 
hours,  [bowers. 

And  halcyon  pleasure  smiled  through  all  her 
Fond  recollection  decks  the  rural  scene, 
Nor  notes  the  blank  which  time  has  cast  between. 
Where  dark  waved  Merrimack  expands  its  flood, 
Below  its  source  the  humble  dwelling  stood, 
The  scene  was  fair,  and  sweet  to  fancy's  view, 
Fanned  by  the  mountain  and  sequestered  too, 
The  moss-grown  rock,  majestic  reared  its  head, 
And  frowning  darkly,  deepening  grandeur  shed ; 
The  crystal  stream  with  winding  course  betrayed, 
Its  silent  current  stealing  'mid  the  glade; 
The  beechen  tree,  the  favourite  spot  well  known, 
Where  village  sport,  and  mirth  had  reared  their 

throne, 
Where  oft  at  times  and  scenes  when  all  was  gay, 
Blithe  pleasure  reigned  in  rustic  holiday ; 
And  oft  when  twilight's  gleam  had  sunk  afar, 
And  in  the  west  appeared  the  evening  star, 
With  minds  serene,  and  pleasure's  toil  forgot, 
Each  young  companion  sought  the  favourite  spot, 
The  legend  wild  with  breathless  awe  to  share, 
The  jocund  song,  or  weep  the  tale  of  care. 
*         *         • 


12 

With  rich  content  and  humble  quiet  blest, 
No  brooding  envy  marred  the  hamlet's  rest, 
No  sound  disturbed,  save   when   the  echoing 

stroke 
Amid  the  wild,  the  sturdy  woodman  spoke, 
Or  when  afar  the  distant  rural  bell, 
Marked  holy  time,  or  sighed  the  passing  knell, 
From  village  church  whose  tall  and  reverend 

fane 
Rose  o'er  the  vale  and  gleamed  across  the  plain,* 
Hallowed  the  spot !  e'en  now  with  awe  I  feel, 
The  holy  dread  which  o'er  each  thought  would 

steal 
At  Sabbath  morn  when  mingling  with  the  throng, 
To  join  in  heart  and  raise  the  sacred  song ; 
The  vocal  swell,  which  thrilled  the  chant  of 

love, 
The  suppliant  form,  the  prayer  which  rose  above 
The  warning  voice  when  Sinai  breathed  alarm, 
The  strains  of  peace  that  whispered  Calvary's 

balm, 
All  touched  the  heart,  and  drew  the  listening  ear, 
The  sigh  was  heard,  and  oft  was  seen  the  tear, 

*  The  churches  in  New-England  are  generally  distin- 
guished by  lofty  spires,  which  have  a  pleasing  appear- 
ance. 


\ 


13 

With  awe  the  flock  retired  from  church  to  pray, 
And  meditation  well  employed  the  day. 
For  me,  the  lonely  walk  possessed  a  charm, 
And  pleasing  solitude  could  care  disarm  ; 
And  oft  I  lingered  near  the  hallowed  ground, 
My  favourite  spot,  where  rapt  in  thought  pro- 
found, 
I  wandered  sad  beneath  the  elm-tree  shade, 
"Where  Brass-grown  hillocks  told  that  life  must 
fade.  [train, 

And  oft  I  watched  the  mournful  lengthening 
In  funeral  state,  pass  slow  across  the  plain, 
For  death's  stern  arrow  found  this  calm  abode, 
The  man — the  friend,  the  viewless  valley  trode. 
Around  the  grave  the  thoughtful  rustics  bend, 
And  oft  the  prayer  and  holy  hope  ascend ; 
The  shepherd-pastor  sorrowing  tears  V  assuage, 
Speaks  consolation  from  the  sacred  page; 
Tells  of  the  hopes  which  from  that  fountain 

spring; 
How  Jesus  rose,  and  foiled  the  tyrant's  sting; 
How  brief  is  time — how  long  the  bright  reward, 
And  blest  are  all  that  slumber  in  the  Lord  ; 
The  mourner  weeps — but  weeps  in  humble  trust, 
And  well  resigned,  commits  the  dust  to  dust. 


^ 


u 


14 

At  twilight  hour,  the  household  now  repair, 
Together  join,  and  meek  instruction  share  ; 
The  catechist  the  youthful  minds  employ, 
All  taught  of  Him,  who  formed,  and  can  destroy. 
The  aged  listen,  while  the  youth  explore, 
With  reverence  due — the  page  of  sacred  lore  : 
In  strains  of  Zion  each  devoutly  blends, 
And  now,  with  fervent  prayer,  the  Sabbath  ends. 
How  blest  the  scene,  where  piety  and  truth 
Unite  their  aid  to  form  the  rising  youth  ; 
How  blest  thy  course,  New  England,  well  in- 
clined 
With  precepts  true  to  store  the  tender  mind ! 

With  native  zeal,  the  willing  muse  would  tell 
Of  primal  customs  which  it  loved  so  well ; 
The  hallowed  day  of  sacred  fast  severe, 
To  plead  for  blessings  on  the  opening  year, 
The  well  known  time  of  mirth  and  festive  joy, 
When  care  was  lost,  and  hushed  each  rude  em- 
ploy, 
When  beaming  bliss,  and  in  their  best  array, 
The  distant  youth  the  annual  visit  pay ; 
With  faithful  ken  fond  memory  would  retrace 
Those  early  joys  which  time  can  ne'er  efface  : 
The  festal  day,  from  long  descent  revered, 
A  yearly  Jubilee,  to  all  endeared  ; 


15 

With  mingled  joy,  and  'rayed  with  seemly  care, 
All  worship  humbly  in  the  house  of  prayer; 
At  home,  assembled  round  the  groaning  board, 
With    nature's   gifts,   and  housewife's  labours 

stored, 
Arranged  with  skill,  from  age  to  eager  youth, 
They  reverend  stand,  and  crave  with  earnest 

truth, 
A  kindly  blessing;  from  the  Fount  of  Love, 
Whose  care  paternal,  does  the  act  approve: 
And  now,  with  keen,  but  temperate  haste,  they 

share 
The  full  repast — the  yeoman's  bounteous  fare, 
With  prudent  use,  the  cheerful  glass  goes  round, 
The  mutual  wish  with  mutual  hopes  are  crowned, 
With  church  and  country — home  and  absent 

friends, 
And  thanks  for  all  which  heaven,  in  mercy  sends. 

The  evening  hour  invites  to  halcyon  joy, 
And  varied  sports  which  charm,  but  never  cloy. 
The  lively  dance,  with  ancient  mystic  game, 
Where  choice  betrays  the  modest  lover's  flame; 
The  ready  jest,  the  mirth-inspiring  song, 
With  tales  of  old,  the  joyous  scenes  prolong, 
While  youthful  love,  with  Hymen  oft  delight 
To  join  the  bridal  with  the  festive  night. 


16 

Such  are  thy  joys,  New  England — such  thy 
scenes, 
Simple  and  rich,  where  care  ne'er  intervenes ; 
Such  thy  republic,  pure,  unsoiled  by  art, 
The  boast  and  pride  of  every  patriot  heart. 
Oh,  still  may  hateful  luxury,  and  strife, 
Those  brooding  ills  with  fearful  omens  rife, 
Be  ever  distant  from  thy  happy  soil, 
And  thou  be  blest  in  rich  contentment's  spoil. 
May  education  still  with  morals  blend, 
And  science  find  in  thee  a  constant  friend. 
Thy  numerous  schools  thy  best  affection  claim, 
And  Alma-Mater  still  increase  thy  fame ; 
Still  may  thy  yeomen,  freedoom's  fearless  guard, 
In  teeming  harvests  reap  a  due  reward  ; 
Thy  arts  be  blest,  inventive  genius  find 
In  prospering  wealth  the  spring  of  genius  kind. 
Thy  merchants  favoured,  may  each  genial  gale 
Safe  to  its  port  convey  the  spreading  sail. 
By  heaven  protected,  may  thy  peace  endure, 
Thy  fame  continue,  as  thy  bounty  sure ; 
And  while  the  banner  of  our  cause  unfurled, 
Shall  wave  afar,  the  honoured  of  the  world, 
While  freedom  sways  on  fair  Columbia's  shore, 
Mayst  thou  be  blest  till  time  itself's  no  more. 


.MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

MY  NATIVE  VILLAGE. 

Hail  to  the  valley,  and  mist-mantled  mountain 
Those  scenes  of  my  childhood  to  memory  dear  ; 
Hail  to  the  cot,  by  the  favourite  fountain, 
"Where  simplicity  dwells,  with  affection  sincere  ! 

Oh,  long  have  I  wandered  a  stranger  to  pleasure, 
And  far  from  the  valley,  and  mountain  did  roam  ; 
But  ne'er  have  I  found  sweet  contentment's  rich 

treasure, 
It  dwells  unconcealed  in  my  own  native  home. 

How  oft,  when  soft  slumber,  my  eye-lids  enclo- 
sing, 

With  joy  to  the  streamlet  and  dell  would  I  fly  ; 

And  fancy,  on  scenes  of  affection  reposing, 

Dwelt  there  with  fond  transport — but  woke  with 
a  si^h  ! 


18 

Oh,  dear  to  the  soul  is  the  secret  emotion, 
Which  the  loved  recollection  of  joys  ever  move; 
And  sweet  is  the  tear,  which  the  heart's  fond  devo- 
tion, 
Bestows  to  the  memory  of  infancy's  love. 

There  fain  would  I  wander,  a  stranger  to  sorrow, 
Where  the  woodbine  entwines,  and  the  wild- 
roses  bloom  ; 
Confiding  with  heaven  the  cares  of  the  morrow, 
'Till  the  faint  blush  of  twilight  shall  beam  on  my 
tomb! 

Hail  to  the  valley,  and  mist-mantled  mountain, 
Those  scenes  of  my  childhood,  to  memory  dear  : 
Hail  to  the  cot,  by  the  favourite  fountain, 
Where  simplicity  dwells  with  affection  sincere  ! 


SPANISH    PATRIOTS. 

Patriots — rise  !  Ye  warriors  brave, 
Now  assert  proud  Freedom's  cause 

Dare  be  free  ! — and  dare  to  save — 
Country — home — and  sacred  laws. 

Chieftains  arm  !  for  fight  prepare, 
See — advance  the  dastard  foe! 


19 

Freemen  rise,  the  battle  share, 
Soon  the  tyrant  shall  be  low. 

Hark  !  the  clarion's  warlike  strain, 
Bids  the  Hero  rush  to  arms  ; 

Freedom  calls — 'tis  not  in  vain, 
Victory  now  the  foe  disarms. 

'Tis  the  cause  of  right  and  heaven, 
Who  shall  dare  oppose  its  will ; 

Freedom's  empire,  here  is  given, 
Freedom  then  shall  flourish  stil! 

Onward  then,  ye  warriors  lead, 
On  to  victory  and  the  foe; 

For  your  country  dare  to  bleed — 
Soon  the  tyrant  shall  be  low  ! 


CYNTHIA. 

Sweet  orb  of  night,  I  saw  thee  rise 

In  cloudless  lustre  o'er  the  plain, 
I  saw  thee  climb  the  azure  skies, 

AVith  radiant  splendours  in  thy  train. 
I  marked  thy  mildly  pensive  beam 

At  midnight's  still  and  hallowed  hour 
I  watched  the  fitful,  lonely  gleam 

That  played  on  yonder  ivyed  tower> 


20 

Sweet  orb  of  night,  full  oft  I  love, 

When  every  care  and  toil  is  o'er, 
To  wander  'mid  the  silent  grove, 

And  there  the  source  of  light  adore. 
Oh  then,  how  false  all  else  appears, 

While  wrapt  in  awe  thy  course  I  view, 
And  see  thee  mount  the  starry  spheres, 

And  tread  the  fields  of  heavenly  blue. 

Sweet  orb  of  night,  when  I  no  more 

Shall  trace  thy  lovely,  mournful  ray, 
When  freed  from  earth,  my  soul  shall  soar 

To  realms  of  blest  ethereal  day, 
Should  one  loved  friend  bestow  a  tear 

When  all  is  wrapt  in  solemn  gloom, 
Oh  guide  the  maiden  to  my  bier, 

And  shed  thy  radiance  o'er  the  tomb ! 


ODE  FOR  22D  OF  FEBRUARY. 

The  Genius  of  freedom  to  earth  had  descended, 
The  steeds  were  Apollo's,  his  wreath  decked  the 

car ; 
With  the  laurelled  tiara  the  cypresswas  blended, 
No  temple  was  reared,  nor  votary  there — 
She  smiled !  then  burst  the  glorious  dawn  , 
She  spake  !  and  Washington  was  born  ; 


21 

The  avenger  of  freedom,  the  pride  of  the  world  ! 

Shouts  of  triumph  rend  the  skies, 

Peans  of  joy  to  heaven  arise, 
For   oppression   and  slavery  to  darkness   are 
hurled. 

Hail  to  the  dawn  of  Columbia's  glory, 
That  ushered  to  being  her  favourite  son  ; 
Infants  and  youth,  with  veterans  hoary, 
Exult  in  the  freedom  his  valour  has  won  ! 
The  star  of  glory  left  its  sphere, 
And  shone  with  radiant  lustre  here  ; 
On  the  fields  where  they  fought,  on  the  heights 
where  they  bled — 
On  land  and  on  ocean, 
In  war's  dire  commotion, 
The  bright  star  of  freedom  to  victory  led. 

Shade  of  the  Hero  !  with  radiance  surrounded, 
From  regions  of  glory  thy  spirit  looks  down, 
And  joyful  beholds  the  oppressor  confounded, 
Columbia  triumphant !  the  first  in  renown  ! 
Her  canvass  whitens  distant  seas, 
Her  banners  float  on  every  breeze  ;     [wave  ! 
"The  star  spangled  banner"  that  proudly  shall 

This  standard  unfurled, 

Displays  to  the  world 
The  ensign  of  freedom,  or  shroud  of  the  brave, 


22 

The  trident  of  Neptune,  to  valour  removed, 
The  halo  of  glory  encircles  each  tar ; 
A  phalanx  undaunted,  that  ever  hath  proved 
The  bulwark  of  freedom,  the  sinew  of  war  ! 

With  bold  majestic  strides 

Her  gallant  navy  rides; 
With  laurels  unfading — 'tis  victory's  spoil ! 

The  clarion  no  more 

Awakes  on  her  shore  ; 
The  olive  of  peace  still  blooms  on  the  soil ! 

Hail  to  the  dawn  of  Columbia's  glory, 
That  ushered  to  being  her  favourite  son  ; 
Infants  and  youth,  with  veterans  hoary, 
Exult  in  the  freedom  his  valour  has  won  ! 

Sons  of  Columbia,  raise  the  song ; 

Let  heaven  with  earth  the  strains  prolong, 
While  the  laurels  that  flourish  on  Liberty's  shore, 
To  ages  proclaim 
Our  Washington's  fame, 
This  day  shall  be  hallowed  till  time  is  no  more  1 


DECAY  OF  SPRING. 

Fair,  blooming  Spring  appears  with  smile  se- 
rene; 
All  nature  beams  with  innocence  and  love  : 


No  more  stern  winter  glooms  the  opening  sky, 

The  frigid  north  receives  its  hoary  sire. 

Now   man   walks  forth   to  taste  the  fragrant 

breeze, 
At  early  morn,  ere  Phoebus'  burning  ray 
Sips  the  chaste  dew  that  gems  the  blushing 

flower. 
Oh,  how  his  soul  expands  with  thrilling  joy ! 
With  eager  bound,   he  blithesome  treads  the 

lawn, 
While  grateful  praise  his  ardent  bosom  warms. 
Sweet  are  the  joys  of  Flora's  happy  reign, 
When  rural  pleasure  smiles — but  soon  the  hour 
Will  come,  nor  shall  delay,  when  that  fair  spring 
Whose  virgin  charms  the  raptured  harp  hath  told 
Shall  quick  recede — yea  flee  as  fast  away 
As  the  bright  meteor  of  a  louring  sky — 
Or  as  fond  dreams  when  youthful  fancy  leads, 
Whispering  sweet  peace,  while  memory  wakes 

to  tears  ! 
All,  all  shall  flee — these  flowers  shall  fade  away. 
Urged  on  by  time  these  halcyon  moments  fly, 
In  the  dark  region  of  eternal  night 
Shall  they  be  lost,  while  man  alone  survives ! 
Oh  then  how  wise,  how  blest  supremely  he 
Who  views,  beyond  the  narrow  bounds  of  time 


24 

The  happy  realms  of  pure  ethereal  joy  ! 
When  earth  shall  flee,  and  skies  dissolve  away, 
This  soul  shall  anchor  on  the  heavenly  shore  : 
No  raging  storm — no  blighting  winter  there; 
For  calm  is  heaven ;  and  love  Divine  shall  prove 
The  smiling  dawn  of  an  eternal  Spring  ! 


MELODY. 

I  love  the  blush  of  early  morn, 

That  beams  with  rosy  hue  ; 
When  sparkling  o'er  the  verdant  lawn, 

It  gems  the  crystal  dew. 

'Tis  then  I  muse  on  Delia's  smile, 
Which  dimpling  bright  and  fair, 

Dark  sorrow's  ills  can  e'en  beguile, 
And  charm  each  latent  care. 

I  love  the  mildly  pensive  ray, 
That  lonely  twilight  cheers  ; 

When  gleaming  'mid  the  close  of  day, 
It  shines  through  evening's  tears. 

'Tis  then  fond  memory,  whispering  says, 
While  throbs  my  bosom  move, 

That  such  is  Delia's  tender  gaze, 
And  such  her  glance  of  love. 


25 


TO  PEACE. 

Daughter  of  Heaven  !  fair  offspring  of  the  skies, 
To  thee,  loved  teace,  shall  sweetest  incense  rise, 
The  song  of  angels  !  theme  of  men  below, 
*Tis  thine  to  sooth,  and  heal  a  nation's  wo, 
Robed  with  resplendence,  bright  celestial  day, 
How  evanescent  is  thy  meteor  ray  ! 
As  the  wild  lightning's  quick  receding  glare, 
The  flash  illumes — and  leaves  the  darkening  air, 
'Tis  here — 'tis  gone! — the  boon  is  swift  recalled, 
And  war's  dire  besom  sweeps  a  groaning  world. 
Hark!  from  the  dungeon  of  the  dreary  cells — 
Where   haggard    want,    and    frowning    horror 

dwells, 
The  accursed  walls  by  tyrant  hands  upreared, 
The  flinty  stones  with  guiltless  blood  besmeared, 
A  groan  bursts  forth — at  which  the  rocks  would 

weep — 
A  sigh  is  breathed  from  misery's  bosom  deep.* 
Say,   shall  we   hear  unmoved  that  harrowing 

groan, 
With  frigid  coldness — mark  each  rising  moan  ? 
Forbid  it  heaven  !  that  e'er  the  captive's  sigh, 
Should  ask  for  aid — and  no  redemption  nigh. 

0 

*  Meade. 
C 


26 

Who  will  not  rise — a  free  born  son  to  save, 
From    Spanish  chains!    from    slavery's   living 

grave ! 
Where  is  the  heart  of  adamantine  formed, 
Whose  icy  core  to  pity  ne'er  was  warmed, 
That  heart  will  soften  at  the  victim's  pain, 
That  soul  will  rouse  against  relentless  Spain. 
All,  all  will  rise — for  vengeance  is  not  far, 
And  gentle  peace  shall  yield  to  righteous  war. 
From  short  repose,  the  avenging  sword  will  leap, 
And  prove  to  Ferdinand  justice  does  not  sleep ; 
Its  flaming  point  will  hostile  shores  illume, 
And  light  the  tyrant  to  his  final  doom. 
Nor  will  the  goddess  bless  Hesperia's  lands, 
'Till  Spanish  legions  own  our  conquering  bands, 
Then  shall  the  olive  bloom  on  freedom's  shore; 
Swords  plow  the  earth  and  war  be  heard  no 

more — 
Accursed  contention  with  its  horrors  cease, 
For  rightful  war,  ensures  a  lasting  Peace  ! 


GRAVE  OF  PUTNAM. 

The  awful  height  of  Bunker's  brow, 
To  wondering  ages  still  shall  tell ; 


27 

What  valour  stemmed  the  rushing  foe, 
When  cannons  pealed  a  Warren's  knell! 

There  is  a  spot — 'tis  hallowed  ground  ! 

Where  lowly  rests  the  warrior's  head; 
The  tall  grass  mournful  waves  around  ; 

It  waves  o'er  Putnam's  honoured  bed ! 

And  oft  the  traveller  shall  repair, 

To  valour  pay  the  meed  of  wo; 
And  by  the  sainted  spirit  swear, 

To  guard  his  fame  from  every  foe. 

And  though  with  envy,  scoffers  burn, 
'Twill  flourish  in  immortal  bloom  ; 

The  laurel  deck  the  hero's  urn, 

The  night-shade  mark  his  slanderer's  tomb. 


STANZAS. 

I  love  the  breast  that  kindly  feels, 
The  griefs  which  mortals  know ; 

I  love  the  lip  whose  accent  heals 
The  wounds  of  tearful  wo. 

The  eye  that  beams  with  pity's  gem, 

Is  bright  to  every  view  ; 
Its  lustre  shades  the  diadem, 

Or  ruby's  sparkling  hue. 


28 

The  form  that  flies  to  misery's  aid, 

To  dry  the  orphan's  tear; 
Is  grace  combined  with  ease,  displayed, 

Unrivalled  by  compeer. 

Sweet  is  Apollo's  silver  strain, 

And  Sappho's  melting  air; 
Sweeter  the  notes  that  soften  pain, 

And  banish  dark  despair! 

Woman  !  while  these  unite  in  thee, 

We  own  thy  magic  still  ; 
And  every  heart  though  proudly  free, 

Is  vanquished  at  thy  will ! 


THE  VISION. A  FRAGMENT. 

*  *     *     *     I  saw  the  scroll — 

Its  fearful  length  unfolding  far  beyond 
The  ken  of  Angel  ! 

*  *    *    *     eternity  was  there ! 
##»*##•*#♦* 

*  *     *     *     The  trumpets  sounded, 
The  golden  harps  attuned  triumphant  lays, 
To  him  who  was — who  is — and  is  to  come  ! 
Creation's  king  !  When  lo,  the  Seraph 
Whom  first  I  saw,  advancing,  gave  the  sign, 


29 

And  heaven's  vast  courts  were  still!  with  rapid 
strides 

Approached  the  Monarch,  hoar  unwearied  time! 

To  him,  the  chief,  he  trembling,  yielded  up 

His  dread  account : — The  Cherub  raised  the  sig- 
net, 

Jehovah's  manuel  !  And  on  the  parchment  was 
imprest 

Another  year  ! Again  the  trumpets  sound- 
ed— 

The  tuneful  harps  again  lent  melody, 

And  swelled  on  high, the  blest — the  sacred  song! 


ON  VISITING  THE  SCENES  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

Hail  former  scenes  of  childhood's  early  day, 
When  peaceful  joys  beguiled  my  infant  hours, 

These  youthful  scenes  demand  a  tuneful  lay, 
Assist,  Oh  Muse,  with  all  thy  artless  powers. 

Hail  dear  abode,  I  love  the  well  known  place, 
Where  hours  of  bliss  on  downy  pinions  flew, 

Here  rolling  years,  with  pensive  thought  I  trace, 
For  here  wa3  peace — here  happiness  I  knew. 

Beneath  that  elm  which  spreads  its  rural  shade, 
In  native  grandeur  o'er  the  smiling  plain ; 

62 


My  early  vows  to  tender  love  I  paid, 

Nor  knew  of  care,  nor  thought  of  future  pain. 

See  yonder  stream  whose  gentle  current  flows, 
Calm  and  secure  from  every  threatening  storm, 

Pure  as  that  stream  are  joys  which  youth  bestows, 
No  grief  disturbs,  and  each  fond  hope  is  warm. 

Ye  scenes  of  sweet  and  hallowed  early  peace, 
Your  halcyon  hours  I  view  with  pleasing  pain; 

They  quickly  flew,  and  saw  my  joys  increase; 
For  then  contentment  owned  its  happy  reign. 

Fled  are  those  hours — those  hours  to  me  so  dear, 
And  nought  is  left  but  memory  and  a  tear  ! 


IMPROMPTU 

On  reading  an  account  of  the  Rejection  of  the  bill, 
recently  introduced  into  the  House  of  Delegates  of 
Maryland,  to  alter  the  Constitution,  so  as  to  place 
the  Jews  on  an  equal  footing  with  the  Christians,  as 
it  regards  political  rights. 

What,  still  reject  the  fated  race, 

Thus  long  denied  repose — 
What — madly  striving  to  efface, 

The  rights  that  heaven  bestows  ! 

Say,  flows  not  in  each  Jewish  vein, 
Unchecked — without  control ; 


31 

A  tide  as  pure — as  free  from  stain — 
As  warms  the  Christian's  soul ! 

Do  ye  not  yet  the  times  discern, 
That  these  shall  cease  to  roam — 

That  shiloh,  pledged  for  their  return, 
AVill  bring  his  ransomed  home ! 

Be  error  quick  to  darkness  hurled  ! 

No  more  with  hate  pursue — 
For  he,  who  died  to  save  a  world, 

immawjel — was  a  JEW  ! 


TO  THE  DOVE. 

Sweet  warbler  of  the  painted  vest, 
In  nature's  fair  luxuriance  drest ; 
The  fondest  of  the  plumaged  throng, 
The  lonely  bird  of  plaintive  song. 

The  Condar  vast,  the  Wren  minute, 
The  Pheasant  gay,  the  Falcon  brute, 
Though  bold  and  pleasing  to  the  eye, 
Can  ne'er  with  thee,  my  favourite  vie. 

Thou  claimest  my  sympathy  and  love, 
For  still  in  some  sequestered  grove  ; 
Thou  dost  indulge  thy  artless  moan, 
And  lovest  to  sing  and  sigh  alone. 


32 

Thy  tender  strain  of  hapless  wo, 
Oft  bids  the  tear  of  sorrow  flow  ; 
Thy  note  exceeds  the  touch  of  art, 
Thy  melody  attracts  the  heart. 

Yet  blithe  and  cheerful  is  thy  mien, 
And  halcyon  mirth  with  thee  is  seen : 
Thou  roamest  at  large,  disporting  free, 
Fidelity  a  trait  of  thee. 


FAIR  IS  THE  SCENE. 

Fair  is  the  scene  when  the  mists  of  the  morning, 
Chased  o'er  the  mountains,  fly  quickly  away  ; 

Rich  is  the  view  when  the  faint  blush  of  dawning, 
Brightening,  discloses  the  empire  of  day. 

Splendid  the  pomp  when  the  bright  beam  advanc- 
ing, 

'Lumines  with  glory  its  march  through  the  sky; 
Gilding  the  landscape  its  beauties  enhancing, 

As  it  flings  o'er  creation  its  deep  azure  dye. 

Chaste  is  the  ray  wThen  the  night  star  is  gleaming, 
Lovely  and  lone  in  its  orbit  of  blue  ; 

Mild  is  the  halo  when  Cynthia  beaming, 
Mellows  the  shade  with  her  silvery  hue. 


Sweet  are  these  charms,  and  this  bosom  will  ever 

Own,  with  devotion,  their  magic  to  please ; 
But  ne'er  while  there's  truth  be  forgetful,  oh  never, 
That  the  smile  of  affection  is  sweeter  than  these! 


ST.  CLAIR. 

'Tis  done  ;  no  more  shall  valour  crave, 
The  pittance  due  to  veteran  fame ; 

'Tis  done,  the  lowly,  peaceful  grave, 
Hath  sealed  the  hoary  warrior's  claim. 

The  solemn  pomp,  the  decent  sigh 

Bespeak  the  mournful  pageant's  gloom  ; 

St.  Clair's  great  soul  with  scornful  eye 
Surveys  the  mockery  of  the  tomb  ! 

Yet,  sainted  shade  !  in  future  day, 
Shall  tears  of  pure  affection  flow  ; 

And  nobler  hearts  that  tribute  pay, 
AVhich  envy  never  could  bestow. 

But  now,  let  fame  no  trumpet  swell, 
Nor  muse  the  laurel  wreath  entwine; 

For  these,  St.  Clair,  will  ever  tell, 
That  nought  but  misery  here,  was  thine  ! 


34 

STANZAS  TO  AN  INTERESTING  YOUNG  LADY,  DEAF 
AND  DUMB. 

Weep  not,  maiden,  thou  canst  never, 

All  thy  ardent  love  express; 
Weep  not — fate  from  thee  dost  sever, 

All  that  would  affection  bless. 

Wouldst  thou  strive  to  lighten  sorrow  ? 

'Tis  the  sigh  thy  breast  will  free — 
Wouldst  thou  soothing  accents  borrow  ? 

All  our  tears  we  give  to  thee. 

Though  like  some  sweet  budding  flower, 
Which  the  blush  of  morn  displayed, 

Pressed  by  evening's  rudest  shower, 
Each  loved  beauty  seems  to  fade ; 

Yet  the  orb  of  glory  risen — 

Bids  the  floweret  droop  no  more: 

Thus  the  cheering  dawn  of  heaven 
All  thy  graces  shall  restore. 


VETERAN  TRIBUTE. 

Several  officers  of  the  revolution  being  lately  at  the  seat 
of  government,  resolved  to  visit  Mount  Vernon,  and 
pay  their  sad  tribute  at  the  tomb  of  their  lamented 
copatriot  and  commander :  affording  an  interesting 


55 

subject  of  reflection  to  all  who  revere  the  memo- 
ry of  Washington. 

Where  deep  Potomac  rolls  its  silver  stream, 
And  glides  majestic  with  its  watery  gleam, 
Remote  from  scenes  where  commerce  loves  to 

dwell, 
And  far  from  din,  by  yonder  peaceful  dell, 
Vernon,  majestic,  rears  its  lofty  brow, 
In  solemn  grandeur,  o'er  the  plain  below. 
Hail  sacred  spot !  to  freedom  ever  dear, 
Ye  votaries  come,  and  drop  the  tender  tear, 
Here  sleep  the  relics,  which  have  once  enshrined 
The  immortal  lustre  of  a  heavenly  mind  ! 
No  longer,  Vernon,  smile  thy  roseate  bowers, 
Lost  is  the  fragrance  of  thy  blooming  flowers; 
Mute  are  the  warblers  of  thy  silent  groves, 
And  hushed  the  carols  of  their  early  loves; 
Asolemn  awe  reigns  through  the  hallowed  ground, 
And  all  is  rapt  in  solitude  profound, 
The  guardian,  saviour,  of  his  country  sleeps, 
And  freedom's  genius  here  her  vigil  keeps. 
*       *       #        # 

Lo  !  at  his  shrine  Columbia's  heroes  stand, 
Deep,  sacred  grief  pervades  the  veteran  band, 
No  language  there,  dispels  the  mournful  gloomi 
No  accents  break  the  silence  of  the  tomb ; 


36 

Each  labouringbreast  with  strong  emotions  heave, 
Each   heart  surcharged,  the  deep-drawn  sigh 

doth  breathe ; 
These  speak  his  worth,  these  heartfelt  tributes 

show 
A  grief  too  deep  for  kindly  tears  to  flow. 

Ye  hoary  warriors,  calm  your  sacred  grief, 
No  more  lament  your  loved  departed  chief; 
Soon  shall  ye  join  him  in  the  realms  above, 
To  part  no  more,  but  dwell  in  endless  love  ; 
The  bright  reward  to  virtue  there  is  given, 
And  joy  eternal,  in  the  fields  of  heaven ! 


WINTER. 

Arrayed  in  gloom,  stern  winter  reigns, 
With  aspect  chill  and  drear ; 

The  streams  are  locked  in  icy  chains, 
The  tempest  howls  severe. 

No  more  is  heard  the  songster's  lay, 
That  echoed  through  the  grove ; 

The  robin  shuns  the  leafless  spray, 
And  chants  no  more  of  love. 

Yon  orb  emits  a  feeble  gleam, 
That  lingers,  cold,  and  lone; 


57 

Its  evanescent,  fitful  beam, 
Proclaims  that  joy  has  flown  ! 

Emblem  of  life,  all  nature  wears, 

A  robe  of  cheerless  hue; 
The  storms  assail,  like  gloomy  cares, 

As  sad — as  frequent  too  ! 

But  soon  these  clouds  shall  disappear, 
The  fields  with  verdure  smile; 

The  bubbling  brook  meander  clear, 
The  robin's  note  beguile. 

The  vernal  showers  shall  dew  the  earth, 

And  genial  suns  illume  ; 
The  beauteous  flowerets  spring  to  birth, 

And  golden  harvests  bloom. 

Thus,  like  the  rays  of  Winter's  morn, 
That  cheerless  prospects  bring  ; 

These  gloomy  cares  precede  the  dawn, 
Of  an  eternal  spring  ! 


CHILESE  WARRIOR'S  SONG, 

Hark — comrades,  hark  !  the  trumpet's  swell, 

Proclaims  the  note  of  war  ; 

The  death-drum  roll,  and  bugle,  tell, 

The  din  of  battle  far. 

D 


38 

To  free  a  bleeding  natal  land 

From  Leon's  galling  chain, 
The  warrior  grasps  the  glittering  brand, 

And  steeps  the  crimsoned  plain ! 
While  Plata  rolls  and  Andes  rise, 
Each  Chilese  heart  shall  freedom  prize. 

Awake  !  too  long  has  bondage  hurled, 

Its  curse  on  freedom's  soil, 
Awake — too  long  a  suffering  world 

Has  groaned  with  slavery's  spoil ; 
The  deepened  shades  of  slumbering  night 

Enscrolled,  are  rolling  far, 
The  dawn  that  bodes  meridian  light, 

Has  dimmed  the  risen  star! 
While  Plata  rolls  and  Andes  rise, 
Each  Chilese  heart  shall  freedom  prize. 

Awake — awake  !  to  glorious  fight, 

'Tis  home  and  country  calls, 
The  watch-wordsounds, "  Our  God  and  right," 

The  vanquished  foeman  falls ! 
'Tis  heaven  approves,  the  soldier's  guard, 

In  gory  battle-fray ; 
'Tis  virtue  wreaths  a  bright  reward, 

To  crown  the  victor  day  ! 
While  Plata  rolls  and  Andes  rise, 
Each  Chilese  heart  shall  freedom  prize. 


(J 


9 


xew-year's  budget. 

Written  for  the  Carriers  of  the  Philadelphia  Franklin 
Gazette. 

When  day  had  reached  its  shadowy  close, 
When  wearied  nature  sought  repose, 

And  all  was  hushed  to  rest ; 
By  fancy  borne  to  distant  plains, 
Where  cheerless  gloom,  with  horror  reigns, 

And  winter  rears  its  crest. 

Awhile  I  gazed  with  pensive  mind, 
And  thought  of  pleasures  far  behind, 

With  mingled  hopes  and  fears; 
When  lo,  a  reverend  form  passed  by, 
Whose  hoary  mien,  and  haggard  eye, 

Proclaimed  the  weight  of  years. 

W^hat  seemed  one  hand  did  firmly  clasp, 
A  scythe,  while  in  the  other's  grasp, 

An  hour  glass  might  be  seen! 
Behind  were  spread  such  eagle  wings, 
A9  he,  who  of  famed  Iris  sings, 

Or  Jove  ne'er  saw  I  ween ; 
Firm  to  the  meagre  ribs  was  bound, 
A  wonderous  budget,  large  and  round, 

Inscribed  with  year  eighteen  ! 


40 

A  ponderous  lock  secured  the  prize, 
To  guard  it  from  unhallowed  eyes, 

That  fain  would  search  therein ; 
The  key  encrusted  o'er  with  gems, 
"Which  winter  forms  in  diadems, 

When  frost  bestuds  the  lin. 


Intent,  I  gazed,  then  quickly  sped, 
To  join  the  phantom  which  had  fled, 

As  though  it  might  not  stay ; 
u  And  whence  such  haste,  old  honest  friend  in 
It  heeded  not,  nor  look  did  lend, 

But  onward  urged  its  way. 

Resolved  at  least  its  aim  to  know, 
And  whether  friend,  or  lurking  foe, 
I  seized  the  pack  with  hostile  show, 

And  straight  did  him  disarm : 
The  mighty  Budget  quickly  fell, 
As  though  unloosed  by  magic  spell, 

Or  some  mysterious  charm. 

"With  eager  haste  I  quickly  op'd, 
And  soon  amid  the  contents  grop'd, 

In  anxious  thought  profound  ; 
A  thing  "  made  up  of  shreds"  was  seen, 
While  News  lay  scattering  between, 

And  scraps  bestrewed  the  ground  ! 


41 

And  now,  if  each  lias  patience  here, 
T"  enjoy  a  short  and  varied  cheer, 
The  news  and  shreds  shall  e'en  appear, 
With  "  arms  and  deeds"  renowned ! 

THE  BUDGET, 

First  then  would  you  know  how  the  Indians 

have  fought, 
How    Jackson,  the  hero,  such  prowess   has 

wrought ! 
To  avenge  the  deep  wrongs  done  to  liberty's 

name; 
Their  chiefs  sleep  in  death,  and  their  huts  are 

on  flame ! 
How  for  want  of  some  cash  the  foot  robbers  did 

try, 
To  glean  a  small  sum  from  the  mail,  snug  and 

sly; 
How  they  built  up  a  fence  with  labour  and  skill, 
Like  a  wall  round  the  jail,  or  the  dam  at  a  mill ; 
But  like  the  "  north  pole"  the  "  expedition"  has 

failed, 
And  each  for  his  trouble,  was  done  up  and 

mailed  ! 
How  rigged  Astern  to  stern'1  the  Franklin  set 


sail, 


d  2 


42 

And  ploughed  the  tall  wave,  for  the  *  fast  an] 

chored  isle," 
How  Lords,  Duk.es,  and  Barons,  applauding  did 

view, 
Columbia's  proud  walls  !  to  them  wonderous 

new ! 
How  Boney  at  present  is  not  very  cheery, 
Because  Sir  H.  Lowe  has  sent  off*  his  O'Meary ; 
How  the  old  King  of  England,  is  tolerably  bright, 
And  "  Her  Majesty  passed  a  very  good  night !" 
How  the  Patriots,  confiding  in  right  and  their 

laws, 
With  valour  engage  in  liberty's  cause  ! 
How  at  Aix-la-Chapelle  the  Sovereigns  have 

met, 
And  Metternich  put  Catalina  in  pet! 
How  in  Brookfield,  the  champions  renowned,  in 

a  trice, 
In  a  fit  of  revenge  killed  a  few  thousand  mice ; 
But  stranger  to  tell,  a  clear  running  stream, 
To  cure  the  consumption,  was  found  by  a  dream  ! 
How  the  troops  of  the  Allies  have  packed  out  of 

France, 
And   kindly  left  room  for  the  Monsieurs  to 

dance ! 


43 

How  the  Dandies  improve  in  Corsets  so  neat. 
As  with  coats  often  capes  they  grace  Chesnut- 

street  ! 
While  the  Belles  who  but  lately,  close  bonnets 

did  wear, 
Now,  through  wide  open  gypsies,  smile  sweetly 

and  fair, 
But  the  beauty  of  these  must  needs  be  confest, 
By  all  who  with  bright  eyes  would  often  be  blest! 
How — but  the  old  leathern  Budget  here  played 

me  a  prank, 
For  it  told  of  my  note  which  is  due  at  the  Bank  ! ! 

Kind  friends  and  patrons,  now,  before  we  part, 
Accept  the  thanks  which  warm  your  Carrier's 

heart. 
May  every  good,  that  heaven  can  here  bestow, 
To  bless  mankind,  be  ever  your's  below  ! 
May  concord,  joined  with  lasting  peace  divine, 
Illume    each    breast,    fair   virtue's    hallowed 

shrine  ; 
May  numerous  Years  of  Plenty,  still  be  your's, 
Each  marked  with  bliss  which  love  alone  en- 
sures ! 
And  when  at  last,  these  fleeting  scenes  are  o'er, 
When  each  pursuit,  with  Time  shall  be  no  more, 


44 


May  joy,  in  streams,  to  each  and  all  be  given, 
Pure  as  the  fount  in  yonder  fields  of  heaven  ! 


THE  NORTH  STAR. 

Mild  star  that  markest  thy  lonely  way, 
In  yon  expanse  of  cloudless  blue  ; 

Whose  gem-like  form  and  steady  ray, 

Attract  the  heedless  peasant's  view,     [stray. 

And  him  whose  thoughts  to  unknown  regions 

Full  oft  the  wanderer,  fortune's  child, 
Benighted,  sad,  and  doomed  to  roam, 

Beholds  with  joy  thy  aspect  mild, 
That  tells  of  happiness  and  home, 

And  guides  him  onward  'mid  the  trackless  wild. 

Oft,  too,  the  sea-boy  marks  thy  beam, 
When  ocean  sleeps  in  peaceful  calm ; 

While  o'er  its  breast  thy  gentle  gleam, 
Plays  wanton,  and  with  sacred  charm, 

Lulls  the  rapt  soul  in  fancy's  pleasing  dream. 

And  oft,  sweet  star,  at  even-tide, 
When  all  around  is  hushed  to  rest ; 

My  thoughts  ascend  and  pensive  glide, 

To  distant  climes  and  regions  blest,      [hide. 

Where  wo-worn  care  and  grief  would  gladly 


45 

And  fancy  whispers  in  mine  ear, 

That  those  which  once  were  here  beloved; 
To  friendship  and  affection  dear, 

Now  from  this  fleeting  scene  removed, 
Repose,  bright  star,  in  thy  ethereal  sphere ! 


CAPTIVE  JEWESS. 

A  Jewish  lady  of  exquisite  beauty,  had  with  her  hus- 
band been  taken  captive  by  the  Saracen  commander 
of  a  fleet  cruising  on  the  coast  of  Palestine.  The  bru- 
tal captain  being  about  to  commit  violence  on  her 
person,  she  caUed  to  her  husband  who  was  within 
hearing',  but  in  chains,  and  asked  him  in  Hebrew, 
whether  they  who  were  drowned  in  the  sea,  should 
revive  at  the  resurrection  of  the  dead  ?  He  replied  in 
the  words  of  Psalm  lxvii.  22.  *  The  Lord  said,  1  will 
bring  again  from  Basan,  I  will  bring  from  the  depths 
of  the  sea.'  Upon  which  she  immediately  threw  her- 
self into  the  sea  and  was  drowned. 

Though  ne'er  for  thee,  on  Shinah's  plain, 

Is  reared  the  sculptured  Urn  ; 
Though  Judah's  harp  ne'er  swells  the  strain, 

Nor  Salem's  daughters  mourn — 

Though  ne'er  shall  minstrel  strains  of  wo# 

Thy  fame  and  virtues  tell  ; 
Though  ne'er  the  dirge  in  numbers  slowr, 

Shall  hymn  thy  parting  knell — 


46 

Yet  softly  rests  thy  weary  head, 
Where  ocean's  flowerets  bloom  ; 

Beneath  the  deep,  thy  coral  bed, 
Is  virtue's  hallowed  tomb ! 

And  oft  when  eve's  pale  star  alone, 

In  sadness  dims  the  wave ; 
The  lonely  surge  will  gently  moan, 

Its  requiem  o'er  thy  grave. 

Then  rest  in  peace — and  when  no  more 

The  raging  billows  sleep ; 
The  Lord  Jehovah  shall  restore, 

And  bring  thee  from  the  deep  ! 


SOLITUDE. 

I  love  at  evening's  silent  tide, 
When  busy  care  has  flown  ; 

In  some  sequestered  dell  to  hide, 
And  pensive,  muse  alone. 

'Tis  then  in  solitude  refined, 
Reflection  feels  its  zest ; 

'Tis  then  the  contemplative  mind, 
With  reason's  charms  is  blest. 


47 

'Tis  then  the  expanding  soul  ascends, 

And  roves  through  fields  above  ; 
'Tis  then  its  heavenly  essence  blends, 

With  UNCREATED  LOVE  ! 

Oh  solitude,  thy  soothing  charm, 
Canst  conquer  fell  despair ; 

Ganst  sad  affliction's  sting  disarm, 
And  banish  every  care ! 

While  folly's  votary  shuns  thy  shrine, 
And  grandeur  fears  thy  power ; 

Still  be  thy  rich  enjoyments  mine, 
To  bless  the  lonely  hour  ! 


is  it  not  a  little  one.    Gen.  xix.  20. 

Of  all  the  varied  ills  of  life, 

By  which  misguided  mortals  run, 

There's  none  with  sorer  evils  rife, 
Than  "  Is  it  not  a  little  one  r" 

When  strong  allurement  leads  astray, 
How  fair  the  web  by  flattery  spun  ! 

The  ready  opiate  smooths  the  way, 
Sure  "  Is  it  not  a  little  one  ?" 

Curst  avarice,  to  itself  unkind, 

Would  e'en  life's  needed  blessings  shun, 


48 

And  hoarding  pelf,  deceives  the  mind, 
With  "  Is  it  not  a  little  one?" 

The  youth,  debauched  in  folly's  maze,  1 
Health,  fame,  and  fortune,  all  undone, 

Too  late  the  whispering  cheat  betrays, 
Of  "Is  it  not  a  little  one?" 

Intemperance,  murdering  life,  and  soul, 
Would  fain  reflection's  moment  shun; 

And  says — replenishing  the  bowl- 
Sure  "  Is  it  not  a  little  one  ?" 

Beguiled  by  love's  seductive  strain, 
The  hapless  maiden  is  undone ; 

While  listening  to  the  falsehood  vain, 
Of  "Is  it  not  a  little  one?" 

Beware  fond  youth,  its  fell  control, 
This  fatal  source  of  ruin  shun  ; 

Reflect  in  time — nor  cheat  the  soul, 
With  "  Is  it  not  a  little  one  ?" 


THE  DUELLIST. 

There  is  a  curse — 'tis  dark  and  fell, 
As  fallen  spirits  know ; 


49 

It  rings  affliction's  deepest  knell — 
It  stamps  despairing  wo  ! 

'Tis  thou,  false  honour,  baleful  fiend, 
That  lures  with  secret  guile  : 

'Tis  thou,  by  tyrant  custom  screened, 
That  murders  with  a  smile ! 

Tis  thou  that  spurns  the  hallowed  ties, 

That  mutual  souls  entwine  ; 
By  friendship's  hand,  the  victim  dies, 
An  offering  at  thy  shrine  ! 

The  woes  that  rend  the  widowed  breast, 
And  rive  with  keen  despair — 

The  sigh  that  speaks  the  heart  opprest, 
The  hapless  orphan's  tear. — 

These  are  thy  triumphs,  honour  ! — these 

The  trophies  of  thy  fame  ; 
And  such  the  envied  laurel  wreaths, 

That  cluster  round  thy  name  ! 


OH,  OFT  HAVE  I  WEPT. 

Oh,  oft  have  I  wept  when  the  wild  wakened  strain, 

in  sadness  has  murmured  of  wo  ; 

A4*  its  thrill,  gently  healing  my  own  bosom  pain, 

Bade  the  tribute  of  sympathy  flow — 
E 


50 

Oh  oft  would  the  gleamings  of  rapture  sueceed, 
As  the  cadence  of  pleasure  has  stole ; 

When  hope  fondly  smiled,  and  the  wounds  that 
would  bleed, 
Acknowledged  its  balmy  control ! 

But  ne'er  is  the  thrill  which  awakens  the  tear, 
Nor  the  cadence  that  vibrates  delight, 

Though  melting  in  rapture,  to  me  half  so  dear, 
As  thy  notes,  lonely  bird  of  the  night ! 

While  saddened  I  list  to  the  deep  plaintive  song, 
Memory  wakens,  disdaining  control ; 

The  dim  flood  of  ages  roll  darkly  along, 
They  pass  with  their  deeds  on  the  soul ! 

Then  those  whom  I  loved,  by  affection  endeared, 
That  repose  where  the  tall  elders  moan, 

Inthe  still  passing  whispers  of  evening  are  heard, 
As  they  sigh  o'er  the  days  that  are  flown — 

I  gaze  with  emotion  :  I  gaze — but  they've  fled, 
Sad  and  slowly  their  forms  disappear ; 

Nought  remains  but  the  ray  on  the  cold  heathy  bed 
And  the  trace  of  the  last  lonely  tear. 


51 

10  THE  COMET,  WHICH  APPEARED  JULY,  1819- 

Mystic  stranger  !  blaze  of  light ! 

Messenger  of  good  or  ill ; 
Portent  to  the  wondering  sight, 

What  behest  dost  thou  fulfil  ? 

Dost  thou  tell  of  blight  afar, 

Or  shall  health's  kind  blessings  cease, 
Dost  thou  omen  direful  war, 

Or  confirm  the  notes  of  peace  ? 

Art  thou  missioned  from  above, 

Oh,  celestial  herald  say, 
Dost  thou  bring  the  dawn  of  love, 

Wakening  the  millenial  day  ! 

Could  we  thus  with  rapture  meet  thee, 

Emanation  of  the  skies, 
How  would  songs  of  triumph  greet  thee, 

How  would  mingling  praises  rise  ! 

But  though  Wisdom  has  denied, 
Finite  skill  thy  course  to  tell ; 

Though  thy  errand's  undescribed, 
Yet  we  know  that  all  is  well ! 

He  who  speaks  in  dreadful  thunder, 
Throned  in  power  above  the  sky  : 


52 

He,  before  whose  viewless  splendour, 
All  thy  radiant  glories  die — 

He  who  holds  the  bolt  of  heaven, 
Systems,  which  their  course  fulfil, 

He  whose  glance  through  time  hath  riven, 
God — will  ever  guard  us  still ! 

Mystic  orb !  then  urge  thy  flight, 
Soon  thy  meteor-reign  is  o'er, 

While  thou  burnest,  the  gem  of  night, 
We,  admiring,  God  adore. 


RUINS  OF  TICONDEROGA. 

Where  dark  Champlain  in  sullen  grandeur  rolls, 
Its  swelling  billow,  checked  by  iron  shores, 
Nature's  firm  barrier,  'neath  the  towering  cliff, 
That  rears  in  solitude  its  craggy  form, 
The  scattered  ruins  tell  the  scite  of  war: 
Lone,  dreary  spot — dark  silence  here 
In  solemn  grandeur  reigns.     In  vain  the  eye 
Ranges  the  prospect  to  relieve  its  pain. 
Black  sterile  rocks  oppose  the  bounded  vision, 
With  the  deep  ravine  where  sad  brooding  fancy 
Has  ample  scope — nought  specks  the  cheerless 
scene 


53 

Save  here  and  there  the  moss-grown  fragment, 
Or  time-crazed  tenement.     No  echoing  sound 
Disturbs  the  scene  or  breaks  the  still  repose, 
Save  the  hoarse  scream  of  midnight's  lonely  bird 
Or  the  dull  moaning:  of  the  surge  below. 

Yet  here  was  war,  and  once  stern  valour  knew 
These  dreary  solitudes  her  choice  abode, 
These  still  retreats  once  glowed  with  busy  life, 
And  preparation.     Yon  lofty  mount,* 
Now  lorn  and  desolate,  once  displayed  its  crest 
Breathing  dark  vengeance  to  the  invading  foe. 
Here    veteran   legions,  warmed  with  valour's 

flame 
For  thee  my  country,  and  the  rights  of  manhood 
Embattled,  formed  the  sure  and  mighty  rampart, 
That  wall  of  adamant,  a  virtuous  soldiery. 
Here  waved  the  chieftain's  plume,  and  here  thy 

lion  heart, 
Eccentric  Allent,  valourous  and  good, 
Beat  high  for  fame,  and  glorious  Liberty. 
Here   swelled   thy  bosom  with   the   generous 

flame 
And  eager  hope,  as  thought  with  rapid  stride, 
Disdaining  fear,  and  hosts  of  boding  ill, 
Pierced  the  thick  gloom,  and  saw  Columbia  free, 

•  Mount  Independence. 
x2 


54 

Now,  how  forgotten  and  how  lone  is  all- 
in  honour's  bed  the  war  worn  chieftains  rest, 
Forgot  the  din  of  conflict :  e'en  victory's  clarion 
Is  now  unheard. — They  sleep,  and  we  their  off- 
spring 
Blest  with  the  boon  which  virtuous  valour  pur- 
chased, 
Now  reap  the  harvest  of  their  blood  and  toil. 
Ye  hallowed  ruins — ye  retreats,  enwrapt 
In  saddened  gloom,  I  still  shall  ever  love  thee, 
For  ye  are  dear  to  freedom  ;  each  patriot  heart 
Shall  ever  kindle  with  the  holy  flame, 
Caught  from  this  shrine,  while  pondering  o'er  the 

past 
It  yields  its  homage  to  the  sacred  soil, 
And  breathes  a  prayer  for  valour  now  departed. 


SHEPHERD    OF   THE    ANDES'   TWILIGHT   SONG., 

Beneath  the  brow  of  yonder  steep, 

The  tints  of  twilight  fade  : 
On  Chimberoz'  the  shadows  sleep. 

That  in  the  valley  played. 

Lorn  in  the  saffron  belted  west, 
The  star  of  evening  shines  : 


55 

The  dew  drop  steeps  the  plantain's  breast, 
And  gems  the  curling  vines. 

My  flocks  in  quiet  now  repose, 

Secure  from  nightly  ill ; 
And  guardian  of  the  wattled  close, 

My  dog  is  faithful  still. 

How  sweet  the  hour  of  peaceful  thought, 
How  rich  retirement's  calm — 

How  free  its  pleasures,  for  unbought 
Is  bland  contentment's  calm. 

In  this  sequestered,  woodland  scene 

Fond  love  and  peace  reside, 
While  rural  health,  of  cheerful  mien, 

AVith  labour  does  abide. 

Then  give  me  still  my  mountain  air, 
My  flock,  and  shepherd's  nest; 

The  loved  companion — these  to  share, 
And  I  am  truly  blest. 


ODE, 

For  the  43d  anniversary  of  American  Independence. 
AVhen  the  birth  of  creation  proclaimed  to  the 
skies, 
That  thereign  of  confusion  and  chaos  was  o'er; 


56 

Each  harp  woke  the  lay,  and  glad  notes  of  sur- 
prize, [less  shore. 
Commingling,  resounded  through  time's  view- 

The    Eternal    beheld  from   his   dark-burning 

throne,  [hest ; 

He  decreed,  and  the  thunder  confirmed  the  be- 

He  spake  ! — and  the  smile  of  omnipotence  shone, 

"  'Tis  good  ! — All  my  labours  are  perfect  and 

blest !" 

When  the  bright  beams  advancing  to  Liberty's 
morn,  [decree ; 

Through  the  portals  of  victory  proclaimed  the 
The  work  is  completed,  a  nation  is  born  ! 

The  tyrant  is  vanquished — Columbia  is  free — 

Again  the  bright  cherubim  wakened  the  song, 

The  minstrels  of  heaven  with  joy  swelled  the 

lay ;  [long, 

The  glad  shout  of  triumph  was  heard  loud  and 
And  the  plaudit  of  glory  bid  welcome  the  Day! 

With  hearts  warmed  with  love  and  devotion 
inspired, 
We  hallow  the  era  of  freedom  and  time  J* 

*  The  Anniversary  occurring  on  the  Sabbath. 


57 

With  the  pure  flame  of  union  each  bosom  is 

fired,  [each  clime ! 

While  'good-feeling'  extends  to  the  free  of 

To  the  chieftain*  whose  wreath-laurelled  fame 

blossoms  fair, 

Now  sainted  above — but  remembered  below  ; 

To  those  who  on  freedom's  blest  altar  did  swear, 

To  those  whose  rich  life-blood  in  battle  did 

flow — 

This  day,  with  emotion,  the  pledge  is  renewed, 
We  recount  each  bright  deed  on  the  field  and 
the  wave ; 

We  view  the  stern  heroes  in  red  conflict  imbrued, 
We  give  our  applause — 'tis  a  tear  to  the  brave. 

Long,  long,  as  the  banner  of  freedom  unfurled, 
Triumphantly  waves  on  the  ocean  and  shore  ; 

While  Columbia  shall  flourish,  the  pride  of  the 
world, 
this  day  shall  be  lauded  till  time  is  no  more  ! 


"  LOOK  AT  T'OTHER  SIDE." 

When  Jim,  one  day,  with  brother  Joe, 
A  simple,  thoughtless  clown  ; 

#  Washington. 


5& 

With  father's  leave,  set  out  to  go, 
And  see  the  shows  in  town — 

It  chanced,  while  idly  gaping  round, 

Each  wonder  to  descry ; 
An  orange,  fair,  and  seeming  sound, 

Caught  Joe's  attentive  eye. 

Joe  gazed  awhile,  and  quick  had  bought, 
With  haste  and  chuckling  pride  ; 

But  Jim,  a  youth  of  keener  thought, 
Said—"  look  at  t'other  side !" 

Joe  viewed  again,  without  ado, 
And  questioned  well  his  sight ; 

For  underneath,  half  hid  from  view, 
The  fruit  was  rotten  quite : 

And  since  that  well  remembered  day, 

Whatever  does  betide; 
Joe  ne'er  by  wrong,  is  led  astray, 

But  "  looks  at  t'other  side  !" 

When  scandal  takes  its  busy  round, 
With  huge,  and  sweeping  stride ; 

Joe  heeds  it  not : — with  thought  profound, 
He  "  looks  at  t'other  side  I" 

When  fools,  arrayed  in  fortune's  smile, 
Are  puffed  with  haughty  pride ; 


59 

Joe  envies  first — then  thinks  awhile, 
And  "  looks  at  t'other  side  !" 

When  urged  in  Dissipation's  maze, 

Corroding  griefs,  to  hide  ; 
Joe  views  the  bowl  with  loathing  gaze, 

And  "  looks  at  t'other  side  !" 

"When  sad  distress,  and  care  is  nigh, 
And  faithless  friends  deride; 

With  humble  hope,  and  tearful  eye, 
Joe  "  looks  at  t'other  side  !" 

And  when — life's  raging  tempest  past — 
No  more  he  stems  the  tide ; 

With  joy  on  Yonder  Shores,  at  last, 
He'll  view  "  the  other  side  !" 


STANZAS 

On  viewing  Trumbull's  painting  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence. 

To  free  a  groaning,  bondaged,  land, 
Inspired  by  right,  and  valour's  flame  ; 

On  freedom's  scroll,  the  patriot  band, 
Enstamped  Columbia's  deathless  fame  ! 

Immerged  from  toil,  and  crimsoned  war, 
A  nation  blooms  on  slavery's  grave ! 


60 

Her  starry  banner  floats  afar, 

Her  conquering  navy  ploughs  the  wave  ! 

While  robed  in  peace  : — bright  valour's  meed, 
Columbia  walks  with  mighty  stride : 

She  ne'er  forgets  the  godlike  deed, 

That  stemmed  oppression's  haughty  tide ! 

Though  envious  time's  relentless  hand, 
Hath  nipped  the  bud  of  glory's  plume, 

Though  now  repose  the  sainted  band, 
Where  laurels  deck  the  warrior's  tomb — 

The  pencil  speaks  ! again,  they  breathe  I 

Again,  the  veteran  forms  aspire — 

We  view  each  patriot  bosom  heave, 
We  mark  the  glow  of  freedom's  fire  1 

Enwrapt  in  awe,  we  catch  the  flame, 
That  kindled  on  oppression's  spoil — • 

And  swear,  no  tyrant  foot  shall  claim, 
A  rest  on  freedom's  natal  soil  ! 


THE  DARK  WAVE  OF  ERIE. 

Tis  midnight — the  dark  wave  of  Erie  flows  lone, 
'Mid  the  gloom  of  the  forest  that  shadows  it 
round  ; 


61 

The  slow-winding  surge  lends  its  deep  sullen 

moan,  [sound. 

"While  the  rock-beating  billow  remurmurs  the 

'Tis  midnight — and  see,  'mid  the  gleam  of  the 
wave,  [keep ; 

Where  'neath  the  cold  ray  their  sad  vigils  they 
In  the  mists  of  the  foaming,  the  souls  of  the  brave, 

As  all  lonely  they  march  o'er  the  cliff  of  the  deep. 

'Tis  midnight!  they  tell  when  the  thunder  of  war, 
Proclaimed  the  approach  of  the  dark  battle 
fray,* 
When  the  shrill-blast  and  death-drum, roll  deep- 
ly and  far,  LPrev  • 
While  the  angel  of  blood  hovered  high  o'er  his 

Look  afar — 'tis  hope's  symbol,  the  flag  of  the 
free  !  [wounded  mast ; 

Through  the  red  cloud  it  gleams  on  the  war- 
Proud  stripes !  soon  to  wave  o'er  the  broad-crest- 
ed sea,  [past. 
Bright  pledge  of  the  future — the  pride  of  the 

The  tall  barks    in   conflict  ensulphured,  have 

'neared,  [the  foe; 

Death  gleams  on  the  blade  as  they  charge  on 

%  The  memorable  10th  September,  1813. 
F 


62 

Hark — His  the  glad  shout  of  valour  and  victory 
heard, 

Columbia !  thy  foemen  in  battle  are  low  ! 

*        *        *        * 

'Neath  the  dark  waves  of  Erie  now  slumber  the 

brave, 

In  the  deep  bed  of  waters  forever  they  rest ; 

The  proud  wreaths  of  freedom  have  bannered 

their  grave, 

The  souls  of  the  heroes  in  memory  are  blest ! 


THE   CAROLINIAN. 

Beside  the  stream,  the  grief-worn  pilgrim  stood, 

Dark  care  had  marked  the  stranger  for  its 

own ;  [flood, 

His  saddened  glance  surveyed  the  murmuring 
And  now  forgot,  the  wanderer  wept  alone. 

The  scenes  of  childhood  met  his  wistful  gaze, 
And  oft  the  sigh  did  heave,  the  tear  did  flow ; 

His  harp  which  slumbered  long,  rewoke  its  lays, 
And  thus  the  wild-note  breathed  the  minstrel's 
wo. 

Where  dark -waved  Santee  winds  its  devious  wrav, 
In  rural  grandeur  'mid  the  verdant  lawn; 


G3 

Where  heath-bells  bloom  and   ivied    tendrils 
stray, 
And  flowerets  glisten  with  the  tears  of  morn. 

Twas  there,  while  pleasure  lent  its  charms  to 
youth, 

And  all  was  halcyon  bliss, I  saw — and  loved — 
The  Carolinian  heard  my  vows  of  truth, 

The  Carolinian's  throbbing  heart  approved. 

'Twas  there,  when  evening's  mildly  chastened 
beam, 
Like  early  love  looked  gently  out  and  smiled, 
We  wandered  thoughtful,  while  the  saddening 
gleam 
Hallowed  with  deeper  shade  the  rustic  wild. 

Oh,  is  there  not  a  time  when  fancy  leaves 
Her  wonted  course  and  wildly  soars  away ; 

When  thought  is  rife  and  cruel  memory  breathes 
In  misery's  ear  the  joys  of  childhood's  day  ? 

'Tis  past ! — but  when  the  warm  and  faithful  vow, 
Breathed  from  the  heart  and  faltering  on  the 
ear; 

Half  trembling  told  what  well  the  maiden  knew, 
Oh  was  it  crime  that  then  I  knew  not  fear  ? 


64 

Was  there  no  presage  to  the  bitter  wo, 
That  soon  shall  'rive?  did  not  compassion 
spare ; 
Was  there  no  source  for  pity's  stream  to  flow, 
No  guardian  angel   whispering   kind, — "be- 
ware !" 

She  sleeps — and  cold  has  gleamed  this  withered 
heart, 

Since  first  it  heard  the  note  of  horror  tell ; 
Its  idol  faithless — Oh,  that  fearful  start 

Was  quickly  o'er — 'twas  joy's  departed  knell: 

She  sleeps  in  clay — and  'mid  the  fitful  gleam 
Of  eve,  'tis  said,  the  Carolinian  steals 

Along  the  surge  of  Santee's  troubled  stream, 
And  by  the  glimmer  of  the  red-bolt  kneels. 

With  arms  uplift,  she  deprecates  the  day 
That  saw  her  crime ;  she  weeps,  and  quick  is 
hurled  away ! 


MELODY. 

When  tender  love  in  beauty  rayed, 
On  youthful  pinions  flew  ; 

When  first  I  saw  the  village  maid, 
Oh,  did  I  not  believe  her  true  ? 


65 

When  virgin  charms  with  every  grace, 
Enchained  my  raptured  view  ; 

Could  time  or  distance  e'er  efface 
The  thought  that  she  was  ever  true  ? 

When  cruel  doubts  disturbed  my  rest, 
With  fear's  tormenting  hue, 

Did  not  the  sigh  which  rived  my  breast, 
Proclaim  I  yet  believed  her  true  ? 

When  plighted  vows  did  fear  dispel, 
With  thrilling  transport  new, 

Each  throb  of  rising  joy  could  tell, 
In  accents  sweet,  the  maid  was  true. 

While  yielding  to  the  kindling  bliss, 

I  sipped  the  nectared  dew ; 
Did  not  my  soul  confide  ? — Oh  yes, 

It  whispered  soft — that  she  was  true ! 

When  fortune  tore  me  far  away, 

From  fond  affection's  view, 
Did  not  the  parting  tear,  display 

The  village  maiden  still  was  true ! 


TO    THE    MUSE. 

Wake,  gentle  muse,  thy  simple  lay, 

The  note  which  oft  hath  vanquished  wo  ; 

f2 


66 

Let  roving  fancy  wildly  stray, 

Nor  heed  the  cares  that  rive  below. 

Oh  soar  above  and  swell  the  song, 

While  pleasure  lends  the  willing  ear ; 

Let  sympathy  the  thrill  prolong, 
While  tender  pity  drops  the  tear. 

Yet  Oh,  my  muse,  why  shouldst  thou  soar, 
In  fancied  bliss  delighted  rove ; 

Why  tell  of  joys,  which  now  no  more 
Can  claim  thy  smile  or  share  thy  love ! 

For  oft  thou  wakest  the  raptured  lay. 
And  singest  of  bliss — to  thee  unknown 

While  sad  and  lorn  thou  fain  wouldst  stray 
O'er  brooding  ills  to  weep  alone. 

Yet  something  tells  'twill  soon  be  o'er, 
Hope  whispers  there  is  rest  for  thee 

Where  stormy  woes  will  beat  no  more, 
Where  all  is  calm,  from  riving  sorrow  free. 


SACRED  PIECES. 

THERE  IS  AN  HOUR  OF  PEACEFUL  REST. 

There  is  an  hour  of  peaceful  rest, 
To  mourning  wanderers  given  ; 
There  is  a  tear  for  souls  distrest, 
A  balm  for  every  wounded  breast — 
'Tis  found  above,  in  heaven. 

There  is  a  soft,  a  downy  bed, 

'Tis  fair  as  breath  of  even ; 
A  couch  for  weary  mortals  spread, 
Where  they  may  rest  the  aching  head, 

And  find  repose  in  heaven. 

There  is  a  home  for  weeping  souls, 

By  sin  and  sorrow  driven  ; 
When  tost  on  life's  tempestuous  shoals. 
Where  storms  arise  and  ocean  rolls, 

And  all  is  drear — but  heaven  ! 


68 

There  faith  lifts  up  the  tearful  eye, 

The  heart  with  anguish  riven  ; 
And  views  the  tempest  passing  by, 
The  evening  shadows  quickly  fly, 
And  all  serene — in  heaven. 

There  fragrant  flowers  immortal  bloom, 

And  joys  supreme  are  given ; 
There  rays  divine  disperse  the  gloom, 
Beyond  the  confines  of  the  tomb, 
Appears  the  dawn  of  heaven  ! 


LINES 

Inscribed  on  the  leaf  of  a  Bible. 

Thou   sacred  Book  ! — whose  heaven  inspired 

page, 
A  guide  to  youth — a  firm  support  to  age — 
Illumes  our  path  with  bright  celestial  ray— 
And  leads  immortals  to  the  realms  of  day — 
Though  sons  of  folly  from  thy  precepts  turn, 
Alike  the  warning,  and  the  promise  spurn. 
In  that  tremendous — that  ecstatic  day, 
When  worlds  shall  flee,  and  skies  dissolve  away, 
While  wrath  divine  o'ertakes  the  daring  foe, 
And  hurls  him  down  to  deep  and  endless  wo, 


69 

Thou  wilt  survive,  when  all  his  hopes  are  o'er, 
Foi  ever  live,  when  time  shall  be  no  more: 
Firm  as  the  throne,  his  word  is  ever  sure, 
'Tis  everlasting,  and  it  must  endure. 

Then  while  enwrapt  in  meditation  here — 
Inspire  me,  Lord,  with  reverential  fear, 
When  Sinai's  thunders  roll  with  solemn  awe, 
Incline  my  heart  to  love,  and  keep  thy  law, 
While  the  pure  gospel  tells  in  sweetest  strain, 
How  Jesus  died  to  save  my  soul  from  pain — 
Oh,  may  it  melt  that  cuntritc,  humbled  soul, 
While  tears  of  joy  in  sacred  torrents  roll  ; 
"When  called  to  leave  this  sorrowing  vale  of  tears, 
Thy  holy  word  will  calm  all  rising  fears ; 
'Twill  cheer  the  passage  through  the  valley's 

gloom, 
And  shed  a  halo  o'er  the  narrow  tomb. 


EVENING  HYMN. 

Oh  thou  that  reignest  with  power  on  high, 
From  whom  alone,  our  blessings  flow ; 

Whose  kind  protecting  care  is  nigh, 
To  saints  above,  and  men  below. 

To  thee,  our  grateful,  evening  song, 
We  now  with  mingled  voices  raise; 


70 

To  thee,  alone,  doth  well  belong, 
The  tuneful  notes  of  sacred  praise  ! 

We  bless  thee,  that  thy  watchful  care, 
Hath  kept  our  steps  another  day  ; 

That  we  thy  numerous  mercies  share — 
That  we  the  social  tribute  pay. 

Each  fault,  thy  spotless  eye  hath  seen, 
Wilt  thou  for  Jesu's  sake  forgive  ; 

In  his  atonement  wash  us  clean, 
And  let  the  contrite  sinner  live. 

While  night  enwraps  her  mantle  round, 
And  sleep  our  wearied  eye-lids  close ; 

Still  may  thy  guardian  hand  be  found, 
And  each  awake  from  sweet  repose. 

Thus,  through  life's  dark,  eventful  way, 
May  we  with  faith,  rely  on  thee ; 

•Till  we  arrive  at  perfect  day, 
Whose  dawn  precedes  eternity  ! 


THE  IMMORTAL  MIND. 

When  pleasure  smiles  with  aspect  gay, 

And  bright  alluring  mien  ; 
When  joy  emits  its  cloudless  ray, 
While  darkening  storms  seem  far  away, 

And  all  is  bliss  serene — 


71 

When  friendship  cheers  with  sacred  charm, 

And  sympathy  sincere ; 
When  circled  in  affection's  arm, 
Whose  glance,  can  bitter  griefs  disarm, 

And  smile,  dispel  the  tear — 

When  all  that  glittering  wealth  can  boast, 

Or  laurelled  fame  bestow  ; 
Unites  with  science's  richer  zest, 
To  crown  the  favoured  votary  blest, 

With  happiness  below— 

Oh,  say — from  whence  the  secret  care, 

That  rives  without  control ; 
That  spurns  each  bliss  as  empty  air, 
While  racked,  it  feels  with  keen  despair, 

Vacuity  of  soul ! 

Learn  mortal ! — the  expanding  mind, 

That  essence  from  above  ; 
Dread  Emanation!  is  designed, 
To  feast  on  deathless  joys  refined. 

And  drink  Eternal  love  ? 


AFRICA. 

"  Ethiopia,  shall  stretch  out  her  hand9  unto  thee." 

While  on  the  distant  Hindoo  shore, 

Messiah's  cross  is  reared  ; 
While  Pagan  votaries  bow  no  more, 

With  idol  blood  besmeared — 

While  Palestine,  again  doth  hear, 

The  gospel's  joyful  sound  ; 
While  Islam  crescents  disappear, 

From  Calvary's  holy  ground — 

Say,  shall  not  Afric's  fated  land, 
With  news  of  grace  be  blest — 

Say,  shall  not  Ethiopia's  band, 
Enjoy  the  promised  rest ! 

Ye  heralds  of  a  Saviour's  love, 

To  Afric's  regions  fly  ; 
Oh,  haste,  and  let  compassion  move, 

For  millions  doomed  to  die  ! 

Blest  Jesus — who  for  these,  hast  bled, 

Wilt  thou  the  captives  free ; 
\nd  Ethiopia,  too,  shall  spread 

Her  ransomed  hands  to  thee  ! 


73 


THE  TOMB  OF  JESUS. 

The  Mussulmen  in  Palestine  have  taken  possession  of 
the  Holy  Sepulchre  in  Jerusalem  ;  and  the  Abbe  For- 
bin  Janson  has  proceeded  to  Constantinople  to  re- 
claim from  the  Grand  Seigrtior  the  keeping  of  the 
Tomb  of  Jesus.  It  produces  an  annual  income  of 
§260,000 ! 

On  Shinah's  plain,  where  David's  gem  appeared, 
The  star  that  walked  yon  bright  serene  alone, 
Whose  mystic  ray   the   Bethlehem   shepherds 
cheered 
While  angel-bands  in  blest  effulgence  shone, 
With  radiance  flaming  from  the  ethereal  throne  ; 
On  Shinah's  plain,  where  Siloa's  fountains  rise, 
Whose  murmuring  stream  glides  mournful  now, 
and  lone, 
The  holy  pilgrim  from  afar  descries 
The  Tomb  of  Jesus, — Lord  Supreme  of  earth 
and  skies. 

'Twas  there  the  Ancient  of  eternal  Day, 

The  blest  Immanuel,  slumbered  in  the  grave  ! 

He    whose  right  arm   enclothed   with    awful 

sway,  [\ave 

To   countless   worlds  their  form  and  being 

When  chaos  reigned,  and   shoreless  was  the 

wave ! 


74 

'Tis  hallowed  ground — proclaim  it  not ! — for 
there 
Is  crime ! — Calvary,  polluted  by  the  Islam  slave, 
A  scathing  curse  for  him  will  wrath  prepare, 
And  bolts  in  heaven  for  those  who  the  dark  traf- 
fick  share ! 

Oh  soon  may  Shiloh  bless  the  fated  land, 

The  unhallowed  crescent  there  be  seen  no 
more ; 
The  lawless  wanderer,  with  Arabia's  band, 

Forsake  their  prophet,  and  the  cross  adore  ; 
While  songs  of  joy  resound  on  Jordan's  shore, 

Soon  may  the  banner  of  our  Jesus  wave 
On  glittering  heights  where  lofty  minarets  soar ; 

Nations  confess  that  He  who  died  to  save, 
The  blest  Messiah,  lives  and  reigns  for  ever- 
more ! 


weep  not. 

Weep  not,  when  sad  distress  is  nigh, 
When  bliss  and  transient  pleasures  fly; 
When  earthly  blessings  droop  and  fade, 
When  ail  is  wrapt  in  sorrow's  shade. 


75 

"Weep  not,  when  death  with  cruel  dart, 
Pierces  some  idol  of  the  heart ; 
When  hallowed  friendship  decks  the  bier, 
When  tender  love  would  claim  the  tear. 

Weep  not — for  as  the  morning  cloud, 
Does  nature's  radiant  smiles  enshroud  ; 
But  scatters  soon  ; — these  gloomy  woes, 
Shall  flee,  and  all  be  calm  repose. 

Weep  not — for  as  the  floweret  fair, 
Is  crushed  with  winter's  blighting  air; 
Pressed  rudely  down,  it  droops  its  head, 
And  all  its  varied  hues  are  fled — 

With  opening  spring,  its  bloom  revives ; 
Again,  the  beauteous  floweret  Jives; 
Thus,  when  life's  wintry  storms  are  o'er, 
The  friend  revives,  to  die  no  more. 


THANKSGIVING  HYMN. 

L 

When  near,  Oh,  Lord  thy  radiant  throne, 
The  shining  elders,  trembling,  bow, 

And  render  praise  to  Thee  alone — 

The  source  from  whence  all  blessings  flow- 


76 

ir. 

Wll  the  Eternal  deign  to  hear, 
When  mortals  join  that  blissful  train  ; 

While  filled  with  love,  and  holy  fear, 
They  swell  the  blest  angelic  strain — 

III. 
For  though  with  power  enthroned  on  high, 

Thy  love  and  goodness  ne'er  hath  bounds; 
To  humble  souls,  thy  grace  is  nigh, 

And  earth  with  heaven,  thy  praise  resounds. 

IV. 

We  thank  thee,  that  protecting  care, 
With  shielding  mercy  still  is  near ; 

That  we  thy  choicest  blessings  share, 
And  smiling  plenty  crowns  the  year— 

V. 

We  praise  thee,  that  on  freedom's  shore, 
Fair  science  blooms  with  blest  increase; 

That  war's  mi  rill  clarion  wakes  no  more, 
And  glittering  falchions  sleep  in  peace— 

VI. 

We  bless  thee,  that  Redeeming  Love, 
By  Calvary,  points  the  living  way; 

That  Jesus  intercedes  above, 
And  guides  to  an  Eternal  Day ! 


77 

VII. 

Still,  may  our  grateful  offerings  rise, 
And  kindred  voices  swell  the  lays  ; 

'Till  joined  with  choirs  above  the  skies, 
We  spend  eternity  in  praise  ! 


PLEASURE. 

Is  it  in  wealth  ?  Go  probe  the  breast 
Of  fortune's  sumptuous  heir  : 

Ah  !  why  does  secret  wo  infest, 
And  anguish  canker  there  ? 

Is  it  in  fame  ?  Her  empty  breath, 

Inconstant  as  the  breeze, 
Will  blast,  anon,  the  laurel  wreath, 

That  late  it  formed  to  please. 

Is  it  in  friendship,  or  in  love  ? 

Alas,  they  quick  decay : 
The  tears  of  hapless  sorrow  prove 

How  frail  this  boasted  stay. 

'Tis  not  in  all  that  here  excels, 

'Tis  not  in  folly's  round  ; 

But  with  Imraanuel's  Love  it  dwells, 

And  there  alone  is  found ! 
g2 


78 

HYMK, 

Written  for  the  Annual  Thanksgiving  of  the  New  Eng- 
land Society  of  Philadelphia. 

Oh  thou  that  reignest  with  awful  sway, 
Dread  Uncreate — Eternal  King! 

To  thee,  let  all  their  homage  pay, 

To  thee — all  hearts  their  offerings  bring. 

Wilt  thou,  Great  Sovereign,  from  thy  throne 

Of  viewless  glory,  deign  to  hear  ; 
While  rendering  praise  to  thee  alone, 

We  bow  with  awe  and  holy  fear- 
To  thee,  this  day,  in  strains  of  love, 

Our  hymns  of  grateful  joy  would  rise, 
Would  mingle  with  the  harps  above, 

And  swell  the  chorus  of  the  skies. 

We  praise  thee,  that  the  fruitful  field, 
With  smiling  plenty  yields  increase ; 

That  thou  art  still  Columbia's  shield  : 
That  freedom's  shores  repose  in  peace-— 

We  bless  thee  that  a  Saviour's  love, 

Hath  spread  Redemption's  joyful  sound, 

That  streams  of  Light  from  heaven  above, 
Illumine  earth's  remotest  bound  ! 


79 

While  here  with  joy,  this  kindred  band, 

Unite  in  friendship's  social  tie  ; 
Oh,  smile  upon  our  native  land, 

With  choicest  blessings  from  on  high. 

Still,  Lord — may  praise  our  lips  employ, 
Still  may  we  swell  the  choral  song; 

Till  seraph's  catch  the  notes  of  joy, 

And  earth  with  Heaven,  the  strains  prolong. 


ETERNITY  ! 

The  shadowy  reign  of  time  had  passed  away, 
Systems  had  fled — and  suns  illumed  no  more — 
The  starry  gems  were  lost  in  radiant  day — 
The  last  shrill  trump  had  waked  the  distant  shore, 
Itsclan^had  ceased — and  silence  was  in  heaven  ! 
I  saw  the  marshalled  cordon  of  the  sky, 
In  glittering  ranks  bestud  the  trackless  plain ; 
The  tomb's  pale  monarch  bound  in  chains  stood 

by,  [nigh; 

The  prince  of  darkness — with  his  powers  were 
While  ransomed  myriads,  swelled  the  countless 

train  ! 

I  saw  the  scroll —  *       *       * 

Endless  duration  never  can  unfold  ! 


80 

Dread  Uncreate! — The  life  of  Deity  was  there! 

Its  awful  signet  shall  remain  untold  ; 

No  strains  in  heaven  may  tell — no  curse  in  hell 

shall  dare 
The  dreadful  years  of  dark  Eternity  declare  ! 


STANZAS, 

On  hearing  the  Reports  of  the  several  Presbyteries,  on 
the  state  of  Religion  within  their  respective  bounds, 
read  in  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church  in  the  United  States. 

Sweet  is  the  drop  that  gems  the  rose, 
When  Flora  breathes  perfume, 

That  bids  the  germ  each  charm  disclose, 
That  bids  the  floweret  bloom — 

Rich  is  the  breath  of  early  morn, 

Surcharged  with  Hebe's  balm ; 
When  sighing  o'er  the  verdant  lawna 

It  sheds  its  fragrant  charm — 

But  swreeter,  when  on  Zion's  hill, 

The  drops  of  love  descend  ; 
When  saints  refreshed,  revive,  and  still, 

New  grace  with  vigour  blend. 

And  richer,  Lord,  the  blest  perfume, 
These  western  wilds  disclose, 


81 

When  budding  fair  with  Sharon's  bloom, 
They  blossom  as  the  rose. 

We  bless  thee  that  thy  love  is  found, 
Where  savage  war  was  hurled  ; 

That  Indian  groves,  and  dells  resound, 
Redemption  to  a  world  ! 

We've  heard  with  joy,  thy  children  tell, 

In  sweet  reviving  strains, 
That  streams  of  light  the  shades  dispel, 

That  God,  in  Zion  reigns. 

Blest  are  these  heralds  of  thy  love, 

That  Jesu's  worth  proclaim; 
Blest  are  the  kindred  ties  that  prove, 

Their  union  through  His  name. 

Smile,  Lord,  on  each  with  love  divine. 

Their  labours  bless,  and  own, 
That  they  at  last,  through  grace,  may  shine 

Like  gems  around  thy  throne  ! 


1  THEY  THAT  SOW  IN  TEARS  SHALL  REAP  IN  JOT.* 

There  is  an  hour  of  hallowed  peace, 
For  those  with  canes  distressed, 

When  sighs  and  sorrowing  tears  shall  cease, 
And  all  be  hushed  to  rest-— 


82 

Tis  then  the  soul  is  freed  from  fears, 
And  doubts  which  here  annoy ; 

Then  they  that  oft  have  sown  in  tears, 
Shall  reap  again  with  joy. 

There  is  a  home  of  sweet  repose, 

Where  storms  assail  no  more, 
The  stream  of  endless  pleasure  flows, 

On  that  celestial  shore — 
There  smiling  peace  with  love  appears, 

And  bliss  without  alloy  ; 
There  they,  that  once  have  sown  in  tears, 

Now  reap  eternal  joy. 

When  the  revealing  hour  is  near, 

Which  shall  unveil  the  tomb ; 
When  filled  with  doubt  and  trembling  fear, 

We  pass  the  valley's  gloom — 
Wilt  thou,  blessed  Jesus,  calm  these  fears, 

Let  praise  our  lips  employ, 
That  we,  who  here  have  sown  in  tears, 

May  reap  in  heaven  with  joy ! 

*TO  WHOM  SHALL  WE  GO BUT  TO  THEE  ?' 

When  rankling  sorrows  wound  the  soul, 

And  cares  invade  the  breast; 
When  distant,  seems  the  blissful  goal, 

Of  peace,  and  lasting  rest. 


Where  shall  the  mourning  wanderer  go, 

Where  shall  the  sufferer  fly; 
What  balm  can  heal  corroding  wo, 

Whose  hand  those  tears  can  dry  ? 

Say — shall  he  seek  in  sounding  fame, 

A  cure  for  bitter  care ; 
Can  echoing  praise,  or  honour's  name, 

Beguile  the  soul's  despair? 

Will  grandeur,  with  its  dazzling  lure, 

Bestow  a  kind  relief; 
Can  pageant  pomp,  and  pride,  ensure 

A  balm  for  mental  grief? 

Does  pleasure,  with  bewitching  guile, 

Invite  him  to  her  arms — 
Too  soon,  he  finds,  the  glance,  and  smile, 

Are  curst,  deceitful,  charms. 

Where  shall  the  mourning  wanderer  go, 

Oh,  where,  the  sufferer  fly — 
What  balm  can  heal  corroding  wo — 

Whose  hand,  those  tears  can  dry  ? 

Blessed  Saviour — 'tis  to  thee  alone, 
He  flies,  with  anguish  prest; 

For  thou  canst  sooth  the  captive's  moan. 
And  give  the  weary  rest ! 


84 

THE  JEWISH  RETURN. 
I. 

Lo,  Judah's  courts  in  sadness  mourn, 

For  Judah's  rites  are  stained ; 
Her  shrines  with  idol  incense  burn* 

Her  altars  are  profaned-— 
The  temple's  pride  is  cast  abroad, 

The  priests  and  virgins  fled, 
And  gone,  the  glory  of  the  Lord, 

Which  through  the  holiest  shed  ! 
II. 
The  thistle  blooms  where  Zion's  wall, 

Defied  the  Assyrian  band ; 
The  ruined  fragments  tottering,  fall, 

The  scorn  of  Edom's  land — 
Yet,  saith  the  Lord,  my  mighty  arm 

Shall  raise  her  ruins  high,* 
My  vengeance  shall  the  foes  disarm, 

That  Israel's  God  deny. 
III. 
From  distant  lands  and  nations,  where 

The  tribes  in  bondage  roam, 
They  shall  return,  forget  despair, 

And  shout  the  ransomed  home— - 

*  ■  The  Lord  shall  gather  Jerusalem— he  shall  build 
the  waste  places  of  Zion.' 


85 

In  Zion,  on  ray  solemn  day, 
With  songs  shall  they  adore  ; 

And  tears,  and  sighs  shall  flee  away, 
And  sorrow  be  no  more. 


THE  SUNDAY  SCHOOL. 

When  'mid  the  haunts  of  shame  and  sin, 

We  view  the  child  of  wo ; 
What  is  that  sympathy  within, 

Which  bids  compassion  flow  ? 

Tis  gentle  pity's  melting  voice, 
In  accents  whispering  mild  ; 

That  prompts  the  feeling  mind  to  haste, 
And  save  the  hapless  child. 

Affection  strives  with  earnest  love, 

Its  footsteps  to  reclaim  ; 
And  bring  the  wanderer  home,  to  prove 

The  worth  of  Jesu's  name  ! 

Thus,  when  amid  some  desert  scene, 
Where  nought  the  traveller  cheers  ; 

Half  hid  by  plants  of  savage  mien, 
The  lonely  flower  appears— 
H 


86 

Its  sweets  his  raptured  sense  beguile, 

With  charms  of  native  zest ; 
He  gently  stoops,  and  with  a  smile, 

Conveys  it  to  his  breast. 

As  tender  plants  of  varied  hue, 

In  Flora's  dress  arrayed ; 
Require  the  warmth,  and  early  dew, 

With  rich,  and  kindly  aid — 

Thus,  Lord, these  plants  which  thou  hast  aowa, 

Require  thy  grace  divine  ; 
The  glorious  work  is  all  thy  own, 

The  increase  shall  be  thine. 


THE  MORNING  STAR. 

I  am  the  Root  and  the  offspring  of  David,  and  the 
Bright  and  Morning  Star.     Rev.  xxii.  16. 

Benighted  on  the  troublous  main, 

While  stormy  terrors  clothe  the  sky ; 
The  trembling  voyager  strives  in  vain, 

And  nought  but  dark  despair  is  nigh — 
When  lo,  a  gem  of  peerless  light, 

With  radiant  splendour  shines  afar; 
And  through  the  clouds  of  darkest  night, 

Appears  the  Bright  and  Morning  Star. 


87 

With  joy  he  greets  the  cheering  ray, 

That  beams  on  ocean's  weary  breast ; 
Precursor  of  a  smiling  day, 

It  lulls  his  fears  to  peaceful  rest — 
No  more  in  peril  doth  he  roam, 

For  night  and  danger,  now  are  far ; 
"With  steady  helm  he  enters  home, 

His  guide  the  Bright  and  Morning  Star. 

Thus  when  affliction's  billows  roll, 

And  waves  of  sorrow,  and  of  sin, 
Beset  the  fearful,  weeping  soul, 

And  all  is  dark  and  drear  within— 
'Tis  Jesus,  whispering  strains  of  peace, 

Drives  every  doubt  and  fear  afar ; 
He  bids  the  raging  tempest  cease, 

And  shines  the  Bright  and  Morning  Star. 


STANZAS 

To  an  Infant  whose  Mother  deceased  a  few  hours  after 
its  birth. 

I. 

Tender  infant,  sorrow  greets  thee, 

Sad  affliction  waits  thee  here  ; 
No  glad  mother's  smile  can  meet  thee, 

No  fond  mother  check  the  tear. 


88 

II. 
Here  maternal  love,  can  never 

Watch  thy  steps  with  anxious  care — 
Ne'er  with  sweet  emotions  ever, 

In  thy  artless  raptures  share. 

III. 
Cold  she  sleeps,  nor  heeds  thy  plaining, 

Heeds  not  sorrows  which  we  see ; 
Dull  the  ear  that  heard  thee  moaning, 

Closed  those  eyes  that  wept  on  thee. 

rv. 

Scarce  thy  tender  form  caressing — 
*Tis  a  voice  that  calls  away — 

Calls  her  from  the  new-born  blessing, 
To  the  realms  of  endless  day. 

V. 

But,  though  thus  by  her  forsaken, 
God  thy  parent  still  will  be  ; 

With  support  and  love  unshaken, 
He  will  prove  a  friend  to  thee. 

VI. 

And  though  now  the  happy  spirit, 
Through  affliction's  stormy  flood, 

Fled — pure  glories  to  inherit, 
Fled  away  to  meet  its  God — 


S9 

VII. 
Yet,  what  consolation  given, 

Let  us  for  the  hope  adore ; 
On  the  blissful  shores  of  heaven, 

We  shall  meet,  to  part  no  more. 

VIII. 
There  in  sweet  communion  ever, 

Shall  we  taste  celestial  joy ; 
Joined  again  no  more  to  sever, 

Love  and  praise  our  blest  employ. 


THY  WILL  BE  DONE.       Luke  XI.  2. 

When  sorrow  casts  its  shade  around, 
And  pleasure  seems  our  course  to  shun  ; 

When  nought  but  grief  and  care  is  found, 
How  sweet  to  say  *  Thy  will  be  done.' 

When  sickness  lends  its  pallid  hue, 
And  every  dream  of  bliss  has  flown  ; 

When  quickly  from  the  fading  view, 
Recede  the  joys  that  once  were  known — 

The  soul  resigned  will  still  rejoice, 
Though  life's  last  sand  is  nearly  run ; 

With  humble  faith  and  trembling  voice, 
ft  whispers  soft,  'Thy  will  be  done.' 
h2 


90 

When  called  to  mourn  the  early  doom, 

Of  one  affection  held  most  dear ; 
While  o'er  the  closing  silent  tomb, 

The  bleeding  heart  distils  the  tear — 

Though  love  its  tribute  sad  will  pay, 
And  earthly  streams,  of  solace  shun, 

Still,  still  the  humbled  soul  will  say, 
In  lowly  dust,  ■  Thy  will  be  done.' 

Whate'er,  Oh  Lord,  thou  hast  designed, 
To  bring  my  soul  to  thee  its  trust; 

If  mercies  or  afflictions  kind, 

For  all  thy  dealings,  Lord,  are  just — 

Take  all — but  grant  in  goodness  free, 

That  love  which  ne'er  thy  stroke  would  shuo. 

Support  this  heart,  and  strengthen  me, 
To  say  in  faith, ■  Thy  will  be  done  !' 


ARISE,  SHINE,  FOR  THY  LIGHT  IS  COME  !  Isa. Ix.  1 

Hark  'tis  the  prophet  of  the  skies, 

Proclaims  redemption  near; 
The  night  of  death,  and  bondage,  flies, 

The  dawning  tints  appear  I 

Zion,  from  deepest  shades  of  gloom, 
Awakes,  to  glorious  day  ; 


91 

Her  desert  wastes  with  verdure  bloom, 
Her  shadows  flee  away. 

To  heal  her  wounds,  her  night  dispel, 
The  heralds*  cross  the  main  ; 

On  Calvary's  awful  brow  they  tell, 
That  Jesus  lives  again. 

From  Salem's  towers  the  Islam  sign, 

With  holy  zeal  is  hurled, 
'Tis  there  Immanuel's  symbols  shine, 

His  banner  is  unfurled. 

The  gladdening  news  conveyed  afar, 

Remotest  nations  hear ; 
To  welcome  Judah's  rising  star, 

The  ransomed  tribes  appear. 

Again,  in  Bethlehem  swells  the  song, 

The  choral  breaks  again  ; 
"While  Jordan's  shore  the  strains  prolong, 

1  Good-will — and  peace  to  men  !' 


WHY  WEEPEST  THOU  f 

Does  gloomy  fate,  with  sullen  frown 
Consume  thy  soul  with  care  ? 

k  Missionaries  to  Palestine. 


92 

Hast  thou  the  draught  of  misery  known 

Whose  dregs  are  dark  despair, 
Art  thou  oppressed  with  sorrow's  doom, 

Thy  heart  with  anguish  torn — 
Oh,  soon  that  sad  and  cheerless  gloom 

Shall  wake  a  brighter  morn  ! 
Then  why  should  sorrow  wring  thy  brow — 

Say,  mourner,  say — *  why  weepest  thou !' 

Does  tender  love  bedeck  the  bier, 

Is  dust  with  dust  inurned  ? 
Has  one  affection  prized  so  dear 

To  heaven,  and  God,  returned  ? 
The  beauteous  flower,  that  charms  the  eye, 

And  decks  the  smiling  plain — 
With  winter's  blast,  doth  fade,  and  die, 

But  dies  to  bloom  again  ! 
Then  why  should  sorrow  wring  thy  brow — 

Say  mourner,  say — '  why  weepest  thou  ?' 


the  south  American's  hymn\ 

Hark,  hark,  I  hear  the  hallow  sound, 
Borne  soft  on  Zephyr's  swell ; 

Symphonious  accents  murmuring  round, 
From  yonder  vesper  bell. 


9S 


At  Panma's  shrine  with  Ave-Marie, 
Their  beads  the  sisters  tell ; 

They  bless  the  sacred  rosary, 
At  evening's  vesper  bell. 

The  choral  wakes  the  virgin  song, 
In  strains  which  wo  dispel  ; 

It  mingles  with  devotion's  throng, 
Called  by  the  vesper  bell. 

How  sweet  the  thrilling  chant  of  praise, 

How  rich  the  vocal  swell ; 
How  blessed  the  solemn  vow  to  raise, 

At  hallowed  vesper  bell ! 

And  while  we  bend  with  kindling  love, 
Does  not  some  whisper  tell, 

That  'mid  the  vaulted  arch  above, 
Is  heard  the  vesper  bell  ? 

Yes,  well  we  know,  before  that  shrine, 
Whose  flame  doth  night  dispel, 

The  Cherub  bows  with  joy  divine, 
At  holy  vesper  bell. 


94 

OH  THOU  THAT  SIT'ST  ENTHRONED  ON  HIGH 
I. 

Oh  thou  that  sit'st  enthroned  on  high, 
In  viewless  splendour  rayed; 

Before  the  lustre  of  whose  eye 
The  brightest  glories  fade. 

n. 

Though  thou  art  high,  yet  thou  dost  hear 

The  lowly  suppliant's  moan  ; 
Though  thou  art  great,  each  secret  tear 

Begems  thy  radiant  throne. 

III. 
When  shafts  of  anguish  wound  the  soul, 

Thy  healing  balm  is  nigh  ; 
When  tempests  rise  and  billows  roll, 

To  thee,  alone,  we  fly. 

IV. 

Then  hush,  dark  sorrow's  weeping  child, 

Tost  on  this  troublous  sea, 
In  strains  of  peace  he  whispers  mild, 

4  Fear  not,  for  I'm  with  thee.' 


WHEN  THE  LAST  STERN  AND  TROPHIED  FOE, 

When  the  last  stern  and  trophied  foe, 
The  hoary  monarch  of  the  tomb ; 


95 

The  spirit  frees  from  toils  below, 

And  bears  it  through  the  valley's  gloom — 

Sty,  Oh  my  soul,  from  whence  the  smile, 
The  heavenly  smile  that  lights  the  clay  ; 
That  sweetly  all  our  woes  beguile, 
And  checks  the  tear  that  grief  would  pay  ? 

'Tis  when  like  evening's  murmuring  breeze, 
That  low  and  mournful  steals  along, 
And  gently  sighing  through  the  leaves, 
Blends  with  the  hallowed  vesper  song — 

Celestial  sounds  glide  on  the  ear, 
To  hail  the  ransomed  soul  are  given  ; 
And  ere  the  golden  harps  appear — 
'Tis  raptured  with  the  strains  of  heaven, 


WHEN  YON  BRIGHT  ORB. 
I. 

When  yon  bright  orb  beneath  the  west, 

Descends  in  shades  of  even  ; 
When  all  is  hushed  in  peaceful  rest, 
The  soul  aspires  to  regions  blest, 
It  finds  repose  in  heaven. 


96 

II. 
'Tis  then  all  fleeting  joys  below, 

Awhile  to  mortals  given  ; 
Seem  but  the  pageant  of  a  show, 
The  veil  that  hides  a  latent  wo— 

And  false,  compared  with  heaven. 

m. 
*Tis  then  all  cares,  and  sorrows  here, 

By  which  frail  man  is  driven, 
As  evening  shadows  disappear, 
And  all  within  is  calm  and  clear, 

Illumed  with  rays  from  heaven. 

IV. 
Freed  from  this  earth,  my  soul  would  share, 

The  joys  to  angels  given ; 
In  bright  celestial  mansions,  where 
Blest  virtue  beams  divinely  fair, 

The  glorious  dawn  of  heaven. 


THE  EAGLE  ON  ITS  MOUNTAIN  HEIGHT. 

The  eagle  on  its  mountain  height, 

Beneath  the  eastern  sky ; 
Securely  views  the  source  of  light 

With  bold  and  fearless  eye. 


9r 

If  lost  in  glory's  azure  blaze, 
It  bends  a  downward  view  ; 

This  floating  disk  a  speck  displays, 
Minute  and  cheerless  too. 

Thus  on  the  mount  of  faith  and  prayer, 

Jehovah's  love  is  seen  ; 
Sure,  vision  strengthened  gazes  there, 

Without  a  veil  between. 

Then  dim  is  every  joy,  compared 
"With  bliss  that  never  cloys; 

And  light  the  sorrows  each  has  shared, 
When  matched  with  heavenly  joys. 


THE  HARP  OF  JUDAH. 
I. 

The  harp  of  Judah  wakes  again, 
The  chords  no  more  unstrung, 

Again  shall  sweep  the  mournful  strain, 
That  oft  through  Salem  rung. 

n. 

How  doth  the  city  sit  alone. 

How  is  her  might  bewailed, 
Where  once  the  dread  Shechinah  shone, 

Where  Deity  unveiled. 


98 

m. 

At  midnight,  lo,  she  weepeth  sore, 
For  silence  shrouds  her  hall ; 

Her  pridtf  and  glory  are  no  more, 
And  none  lament  her  fall. 

IV. 

The  desert  ways  of  Zion  mourn, 

Her  captive  virgins  sigh ; 
Her  gates  are  desolate,  and  lone, 

Her  enemies  are  nigh, 

V. 

Where  once  the  covenant  did  repose, 
The  rites  of  sin,  are  found  ; 

Where  once  the  strains  of  Judah  rose, 
The  notes  of  death  resound. 

VI. 
Ye  wondering  nations  from  afar, 

Behold,  and  see  her  wo  ; 
For  sunk  is  Judah's  natal  star, 

And  Zion's  sons  are  low. 


WHEN  THE  ROSE. 

When  the  rose  in  Sharon  blooming,* 
Sheds  sweet  fragrance  on  the  air, 
*  Sol.  Song,  ii,  1. 


99 

Each  loved  tint  with  pride  assuming, 
Does  its  varied  charms  declare. 

When  the  lily  'neath  the  mountain, 
Weeps  in  Hermon's  glittering  dew, 

Pure  as  Kedron's  crystal  fountain, 
Shines  its  robe  of  spangled  hue. 

Fair  are  Sharon's  blooming  roses, 

Rich,  the  lily  of  the  vale  ; 
'Mid  each  blush  delight  reposes, 

Nectared  sweets  embalm  the  gale. 

But  when  Jesus,  Lord  of  heaven, 
He  whom  Saints  with  love  adore, 

Kindly  says  to  man,  forgiven, 
'Go,  thou  contrite— sin  no  more—'* 

Radiant  beauty  he  discloses, 

While  he  saves  from  sorrow's  doom ; 
Sweeter  than  the  blushing  roses, 

Fairer  than  the  lily's  bloom. 


SHALT  THOU,  OH  LORD. 

Shalt  thou,  Oh  Lord,  who  wast  enthroned  on  high, 
Ere  seraphs  bowed,  or  unknown  worlds  were 
formed — 

*  John  viii.  11. 


100 

Shalt  thou  regard  the  humble  mourner's  sigh ; 
Will  the  Eternal,  moved  with  pitying  love, 
Bind  up  the  broken,  and  with  tender  hand 
Wipe  every  tear  from  sorrow's  weeping  eye  ? 

For  thou  dost  wralk  upon  the  whirlwind's  brow; 
Enclothed  with  thunders,  Deity  comes  down  ; 
Dark  clouds  pavilion  the  Almighty's  form, 
"While  with  the  awful  grandeur  of  a  God, 
On  flying  pinions  of  the  wind  he  rides, 
In  dreadful  state,  and  majesty  sublime  ! 

Be  still,  my  soul ;  be  calm,  ye  rising  fears  ; — 
The  storm  is  hushed,  the  tempest  passes  by — 
Through  the  dark  clouds  a  radiant  form  appears; 
'Tis  Jesus  bends,  to  hear  the  humble  pray. 
To  contrite  spirits  he  is  ever  nigh, 
And  he  shall  wipe  all  sorrowing  tears  away. 


WHAT  DOEST  THOU  HERE  ?     1   KingS  xix.  9« 

Oh  whence  should  care  disturb  thy  breast, 

And  anxious  hopes  invade; 
These  cares  can  never  yield  thee  rest, 

These  brilliant  hopes  shall  fade — 
Say,  can  this  dross  thy  thoughts  endear, 
Say,  say  my  soul,  ■  What  doest  thou  here  ? 


101 

Why  should'st  thou  prize  these  fleeting  joys, 
And  build  thy  heaven  on  earth  ? 

Ah  soon  each  false  enjoyment  cloys, 
And  vain  is  empty  mirth — 

Tell,  can  they  bring  true  pleasure  near, 

Tell  me,  my  soul, '  What  doest  thou  here  ?' 

Why  should'st  fhou  mourn  thy  lot  unkind, 

When  sorrow's  boisterous  flood, 
Has  closed  around  thy  'nighted  mind, 

But  brought  thee  near  to  God  ! 
Is  he,  not  All  ?  is  heaven  not  dear- 
Say,  weeping  soul,  ■  What  doest  thou  here  ?' 


OH  THOU  THAT  PLEAD'ST  WITH  PITYING  LOVE, 

Oh  thou  that  plead'st  with  pitying  love, 
How  large  that  love,  and  free  ; 

When  sad  and  wounded  here,  we  prove, 
A  rest  alone  in  thee. 

Poor  wanderers,  tired  and  'reft  of  all, 

To  sin  and  bondage  sold ; 
We  strive,  till  freed  from  satan's  thrall, 

We're  brought  to  Jesu's  fold. 

With  fervour  at  the  sinner's  heart, 
Thau  plead'st  to  enter  in ; 
i2 


102 

And  there  the  kindly  balm  impart, 
That  heals  the  wounds  of  sin — 

'Open  my  sister  to  thy  spouse, 

My  love  is  ever  true ; 
My  locks  with  nightly  dropping  flows, 

My  head  is  filled  with  dew.' 

Who  shall  not,  Lord,  with  love  adore, 
When  thus  Jehovah  pleads  ; 

What  bosom  close  the  stubborn  door, 
When  Jesus  intercedes ! 

Enter  this  heart,  my  Saviour,  God, 

Subdue  this  flinty  breast ; 
Shed  thy  renewing  grace  abroad, 

And  be  my  constant  guest. 


THERE  IS  A  HARP. 

There  is  a  harp,  whose  thrilling  sound 
Swells  through  the  choir  of  heaven  above, 

'Mid  the  blue  arch  the  notes  resound, 
And  seraphs  catch  the  strains  of  love. 

'Tis  when  some  spirit  from  these  spheres, 
On  angel  pinions  wings  its  way ; 


103 

Before  the  eternal  throne  appears, 
Enrolled  in  bright  ethereal  day. 

Hark,  the  glad  shout  of  sacred  joy, 
In  choral  numbers  loud  and  long; 

The  angelic  hosts  their  harps  employ, 
The  cherubs  wake  their  noblest  song 

The  joyful  news  in  heaven  is  known, 
The  seraphim  their  voices  raise  ; 

While  the  redeemed  around  the  throne, 
Swell  the  blest  symphony  of  praise  ! 


MISSION  TO  JERUSALEM. 

A  Mission  is  about  to  be  sent  from  America  to  Jerusa- 
lem. After  ages  of  darkness,  the  light  of  the  gospel 
is  soon  to  re-illumine  the  shores  of  Palestine. 

Long  hath  the  Crescent's  glittering  sign, 

On  Salem's  temple  shone, 
Long  hath  Jehovah's  awful  shrine, 

Stood  desolate  and  lone. 

The  tents  of  Midian  tribes  unblest, 
On  Shinah's  plains  have  spread  ; 

The  wanderer's  foot  hath  rudely  prest, 
The  soil  where  Jesus  bled. 


104 

But  Shiloh  comes ! — to  bless  the  land, 
And  Israel's  tribes  restore ; 

Lo,  Edom,  with  Assyria's  band, 
On  Calvary  shall  adore. 

Fair  Lebanon  shall  hear  his  voice, 
And  lands  where  Jordan  flows, 

With  Sharon's  desert,  shall  rejoice, 
And  blossom  as  the  rose. 

No  more  shall  Zion's  daughter  mourn, 

Nor  captive  Judah  sigh  ; 
Jehovah  shall  her  walls  adorn, 

And  bring  his  ransomed  nigh.* 


OH  WHAT  IS  LIFE. 

Oh  what  is  life  but  some  dark  dream, 

From  which  we  wake — to  sigh  : 
Some  false  deceitful  meteor  gleam- 
That  sheds  a  wandering,  cheerless  beam— 
And  brightens — but  to  die. 

Oh  what  are  fleeting  joys  below, 
But  cares,  bedecked  with  smiles  ; 

*  l9aiah  xxxv,  10. — And  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord 
shall  return,  and  come  to  Zion  with  songs ;  and  sorrow 
and  sighing  shall  flee  away. 


105 

The  pageant  of  an  empty  show, 
That  fain  would  hide  the  latent  wo, 
From  him  it  oft  beguiles. 

And  what  the  secret,  pensive  tear, 

But  kindly  dews  of  even  ; 
Each  drop  pellucid,  glistening  clear- 
To  sympathy — to  virtue  dear, 

Is  quick  exhaled  to  heaven. 


VISION  OF  THE  FOUR  SEALS. 

The  eternal  throne  of  viewless  glory  stood 
In  majesty  and  power.  Around  the  flaming  base 
Thronged  the  bright  armies  of  the  living  skies. 
The  seraphim  was  there — the  elders  bowed— 
In  glittering  ranks  the  blest  redeemed  were  seen, 
And  thousand  voices  swelled  the  note  of  praise  ; 
While  harps  unnumbered,  mingling,  raised  the 

song 
To  Him,  the  Lamb  of  Juda's  favoured  tribe, 
The  Root  of  David  and  the  Morning  Star, 
"Who  lived,  was  slain — and  lives  for  evermore. 
As  the  clear  jasper  ray  his  glory  burned, 
"While   gems   like   sardine  beamed  with    light 

around, 
And  the  blest  rainbow  did  surround  the  throne. 


106 

I  saw  the  Book  in  his  right  hand  displayed, 
Enscrolled  with  terror  and  enchained  with  seals ; 
From  the  dark  throne  the  muttering  thunders 

rolled, 
The  lightnings  gleamed  and  fearful  voices  spake, 
Borne  on  the  whirlwind  then,  the  mighty  angel 
With  the  shrill  clarion  of  the  echoing  skies, 
Proclaiming  far,  the  dread  Eternal  will — 
Bade  heaven,  earth,  hell  and  sea,  combine  their 

powers 
To  unloose  the  seals,  and  dark  Eternity  disclose. 
I  wept — for  none  could  dare  the  attempt 
When  lo,  the  elder  whispering  accents  sweet, 
In  haste  replied — '  Oh  thou  beloved,  weep  not, 
The  Lamb  of  Juda,  He  whose  vestment  dyed 
In  crimsoned  hue,  proclaims  that  he  was  slain. 
With   wonderous   might  and  godlike  wisdom 

joined, 
Hath  well  prevailed  to  unloose  the  dreadful  page, 
And  tell  the  signet  of  the  Eternal  will.* 
I  saw  the  Lamb  unfold  the  fatal  scroll ; 
The  elders  trembling  bowed,  the  ethereal  harps 

were  heard, 
The  thrilling  numbers  quivering  through  the 

skies 


lor 

Joined  the  loud  song  and  filled  the  court9  of 

heaven. 
Dark  thunders  rolled,  when  lo,  a  warlike  steed 
Of  ermine  hue,  on  whom  arrayed,  sat  one 
With  the  full  quiver  and  a  starry  crown. 
In  dreadful  might  he  rode  triumphant  forth, 
From  conquering  on  to  conquer,  and  to  reign 
With  wide  dominion,  o'er  earth,  sea  and  hell. 
Through  the  dark  gleaming  of  the  bolted  fire, 
The  second  seal  was  seen.  In  point  caparisoned 
Forth  rode  in  haste,  the  fearless  warrior  horse, 
Of  crimson  dye — fit  emblem  of  his  course  ; 
With  power  to  smite,  and  desolate  the  earth; 
A  sword  his  sign,  the  panoply  of  heaven. 
The  voices  uttered,  and  another  seal 
Of  portent  symbol  opened — I  saw 
The  deep  black  steeding  proudly  issuing  forth, 
On  mystic  errand.     Firm  in  his  grasp 
Who  sat  thereon,  was  seen  the  equal  sign 
Of  justice,  due  on  earth  to  man  apportioned, 
With  clemency  his  mission.  The  trumpet  sound- 
ed— 
The  deep  foundations  of  the  throne  did  quiver, 
And  terror  shook  heaven's  vast  and  wide  do* 

main ; 
For  lo,  in  dreadful  vision  the  pale  horse  issued — 


108 

His  name  that  sat  thereon  was  Death — 

On  the  thick  cloud  of  mighty  wrath  He  rode, 

With  hell  appearing  in  his  ghastly  train. 

And  might  to  them,  and  bounded  rule  was  given, 

To  slay  with  sword,  with  peril  and  with  death, 

The  fourth  part  of  mankind. 

Dreadful  their  rage,  and  they  shall  reign  with 

power, 
'Till  He  whose  glorious  birth-right  'tis  to  rule, 
Shall  crush  their  ire,  and  with  the  burning  chain 
Of  wrath,  confine  them  in  the  depths  of  wo — 
When  the  last  long  and  mighty  blast  proclaims 
That  time  shall  be  no  more  ! 


Fltfis. 


